A Mess of Things
by Instead of Reality
Summary: Alanna has returned to Tortall with the Dominion Jewel, and George has been keeping his distance, while Jon has not. What would have happened if she had accepted Jon's second proposal? How would she faire as Queen? Possibly OOC.
1. A Second Proposal

**A Mess of Things **

**A Song of the Lioness Fan-Fiction **

**Summary: **Alanna has returned to Tortall with the Dominion Jewel, and George has been keeping his distance, while Jon has not. What would have happened if she had accepted Jon's second proposal? How would she faire as Queen?

**Author's Note: **This first chapter contains a lot of segments from_ Lioness Rampant. _No copyright infringement is intended. It is simply to set the scene for the story.I do not own these characters; they belong to Tamora Pierce.

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**Chapter 1: A Second Proposal **

**May 439 H.E.**

They wanted _her _to be King's Champion? Were they all dropped on their heads as babies? Or had they beaten each other senseless in her absence so that logic now escaped them?

Jonathan met her eyes, his gaze friendly but determined. "And let's not forget that you journeyed into the stuff of fables and brought back the Dominion Jewel. This alone would cause you to be given a high place, even without everything else you've done. So say 'thank you,' Alanna."

"Jonathan," she whispered, knowing it was useless.

"Say 'thank you,' Alanna," Myles told her gently.

"You said you wanted to be useful," Jon pointed out.

Alanna had to grin. "Thank you Jonathan," she whispered.

He smiled. "You won't regret it—or at least, I won't." He gathered everyone's attention. "Let us discuss the situation in Tortall…"

It was noon by the time the meeting drew to a chose. Jonathan signaled Alanna to remain behind while he showed the others out. She obeyed, still considering all she'd heard since meeting Raoul in Port Udayapur. Jonathan closed the door after Gary and came back to Alanna at the table.

"Please don't feel that being Champion traps you in some way," he said, somewhat concerned. "We're far past the era when a Champion had to defend the king's law with his sword. I imagine you'll have all the time in the world to continue roaming."

Alanna smiled at him. "That's good. It's not that I don't like being at home. I just know there are places I haven't seen. I'll always be here when you need me, though."

"That's a comfort." An awkward silence descended until she asked, abruptly, "Are you still courting that princess I heard about—Josiane? The one I met last night?"

Jonathan blushed and shook his head. "She likes being a princess too much. And she's cruel. She hides it well, but she is." He fiddled with the papers in front of him. "Are you jealous?" he asked sharply. "I noticed you didn't waste time finding somebody to replace _me_. Two somebodies, if you count George _and_ Liam Ironarm.

It was Alanna's turn to blush. "I'm not jealous," she said at last. "I just thought you had better taste."

Jonathan stared at the table. "My offer of marriage stands, if you want."

She looked at him. "I don't know if you've noticed, Jon, but we're very different people these days. I didn't realize how different until this council meeting."

"It's funny," he replied, thinking. "I look at you and realize you've been to places I'll never visit." He smiled regretfully. "You turned into a hero when I wasn't watching."

"Don't say that. I'm still me." Alanna walked over to sit on the table in front of him. "Jon, if we were married, we'd make a mess of things. You know it as well as I do."

"I don't know that."

"What?" She blinked.

"Alanna, please. Consider it." Jon's sapphire eyes met her violet ones. They were full of pleading. _He _actually_ wants to marry me_, she thought, startled. _He _can't_ be serious_. _Especially after last time. _

"Listen to me, Alanna. My kingdom, my reign is supposed to be _cursed_. Both of my parents are _gone_. Roger is back from the dead. You are the best friend I have; you know me better than anyone else does. And you are famous in your own right—Mithros, Alanna, you're already legend. With you by my side, together, the possibilities are endless."

Alanna could not look at him. She was afraid that she would cry if she looked him straight in the eye. This was the only man she'd ever admitted loving, though she wasn't sure he was the one she still loved. Her emotions churned over and over in the bottom of her stomach.

"Alanna," Jon cupped her chin under his hand. "I need you."

"Jon," her eyes were brimming over as she looked at him. "Last time…well, I don't…know if we would work. I love you, Jon. We've been through a lot. But what we want from life—you like this king business. I like action. I like to say what I think."

"Last time, I was a spoiled-rotten, arrogant, hot-headed prince. I've had to grow up in the past few months. And I've realized a few things. I love you, too, Alanna. You're a part of me—my sword arm."

"Fine. I like that. But you need a queen, too."

"And I am asking you to be that queen."

"I'm not queen material, Jon. Look at me!" Alanna gestured at her breeches and tunic, Lightening strapped to her side. She looked nothing like a respectable queen should. "There are so many other options—Thayet, for instance."

Slyly, she glanced at how Jon would take that. Since she had seen Thayet, she had thought perhaps the warlord's daughter could keep Jon in line. Jon blushed slightly, and looked at the floor. _Aha!_ Alanna thought.

"You still want to marry me, sire? Or were you just checking to see if the road was clear?" she teased.

"I don't want to go back on my word. I asked for your hand—"

She sighed. "Jon, do you honestly want my hand?"

"Alanna, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think it would be best…for both of us. Unless you have other takers?"

Alanna looked into his face. Despite his honest tone, she gleamed the hint of a challenge, a threat of a taunt. _Did_ she have other takers? Her heart sank as she thought of George and Liam. She would never have considered marriage to the Dragon, but George… Her newest, foolish, secret daydream included the King of Thieves. But George had been so distant since she had arrived. Not cold, per se, but he had been avoiding her like she had the Sweating Sickness. After her first reunion with Jon, George never looked her in the eye. She tried to grab his arm, but he had shaken her off, and had mumbled something about having to see someone, "Rogue business". Her heart had fallen as a pretty young barmaid had wound herself around George and he had smiled into her face, and whispered something in her ear that had made the lass giggle seductively. Alanna had dashed from the Dancing Dove, unable to face it. George had replaced her. He was always surrounded by feminine girls. One of them had managed to capture his heart. Maybe he had gotten tired of waiting for her to settle down. Maybe he thought her too young. After all he was six years older…

Jon was waiting for her answer; she snapped back to reality.

"Jon, I don't think—"

"Are you positive we couldn't make a good marriage?" he demanded.

Alanna had no response to this. They had mutual respect for each other and knew each other as well as their own selves. She could do worse than the king of the realm.

"I don't know, Jon…"

"Alanna, that's all you said for the past few minutes. When did _you_ become indecisive?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Those are the kinds of things that caused problems the first time, Highness."

Jon put up his hands in defense. "Alanna, I am not trying to start an argument. I just want is best for Tortall. And I think that you would be. Best for Tortall. Just think: the first female knight goes on to become King's Champion _and_ queen." As an afterthought, he added "I think you'd be good for me, too. You keep my head on straight. Please. And if you are my wife, there will be no one to tell you 'no'. Who but I will have power greater than yours? Think of the things you could do for the children, for the girls who share your dreams. And you'll always have a home to come back to after your roaming. Tortall and this palace will always be your home."

Alanna opened her mouth to disagree. She couldn't argue with the logic of a home and what she could do for the future women. But she knew that she would not be the queen Tortall expected her to be. She wasn't the gentle, docile creature Lianne had been and Lianne had been adored. Sure, together she and Jon could shake up the stuffy old-fashioned nobles a bit, but wouldn't a gentle, beautiful, kind queen be better? More of a compromise, on the outside at least? But she _knew_ Jon. And she loved him. Maybe it wasn't the everlasting, earth-shattering, romantic love she'd heard of in stories, but she had never bought that courtly love thing anyway. She wouldn't let herself think of a certain thief as she looked Jon in the eyes.

"Alanna, I love you. You are the one woman who I have ever loved this way. I don't know how to explain to you how I love you. You've always been there for me, the most loyal person I know. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Jon took her face into his hands and kissed her. Alanna waited for the rush of emotion and desire she had always experienced when she and Jon were together, but it wasn't quite there. True, her heart beat faster and she enjoyed the kiss, but something was missing.

"Please, Alanna."

I swore to serve him in any way possible, Alanna thought. It's my duty.

"Jon," she took a big breath, "…Okay. I'll—I'll marry you."

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**I can't promise I can update really, really soon, but I will try. What do you think? **


	2. I Can't Do This

**Author's Note: **This one's a bit shorter than last time, but I do plan on usually having longer chapters. As always, praise to the goddess Tammy for creating this world.

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**Chapter 2: I Can't Do This **

"Okay? You…will?" Jon asked, stunned.

"Isn't that what I just said? You kept pushing it. Do you want me to say no?" Alanna said crossly.

"No, no, no!" Jon cried, putting his arms around her. "I just…" he paused, looking for the right words, "Thank you." He took her hand and kissed it fervently. "Thank you." She giggled at his silliness. He cupped her chin and brought his lips to hers. She drew back and they looked at each other.

Alanna studied his face, the face of the man she had just accepted as her future husband. Jonathan. Her eyes traveled over his coal-black hair, his blue eyes, his nose, his chin, his lips. She knew this face, better than her own. This was the face she'd look at every day for the rest of her life, when she got up in the morning and when she went to bed at night. Thinking of going to bed with Jon sent a shiver through her, but it wasn't the delicious shiver of anticipation; it was almost a shudder.

She placed a hand on his cheek tenderly, pushing the thoughts aside. He smiled at her. She felt warmth in her heart. _See? You care for him, _she told herself, ignoring the tiny thought saying this affection was not the same as it was for—_no. _She pushed that away. Jon looked as if he was going to say something when Gary burst through the door.

"Jon, you're needed—oh."

"Yes?" Jon turned nonchalantly towards Gary, who was eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"I am sorry to interrupt whatever you and Alanna were, err, discussing, but I need you. There are at least five documents that need your signature, and then there is the Council of Lords—"

"Mithros, I forgot that was today. Alright, let's go. I'll see you later, Alanna." Jon and Gary charged out of the council room, leaving Alanna very much alone.

_What in the name of the Goddess did I just agree to? _Alanna stared at her hands, callused and used. _These are not the hands of a queen_, she mused. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, hoping to calm herself down. This not working, she began to pace.

Was she really going to marry Jonathan and become queen of Tortall? She remembered declaring she didn't want love and wanted to be a warrior maiden and do good deeds. "I don't want to fall in love," were her exact words.

Had she just agreed to marry Jonathan because she didn't want to end up a spinster? Was she that desperate for a man? No! She could hold her own in battle; she didn't need a man. Did she want one? Yes. Was Jonathan the man she wanted? _Yes_, she told herself._ Jon loves you. He's said that. _

Trying to satisfy herself with that answer was difficult. To distract herself, Alanna leafed through the different papers left on the table. A sketch caught her eye. Tugging on the corner, she pulled it out.

It was a rough drawing of Thayet.

She recognized it immediately as Jon's work. Alanna's heart sunk a little into her chest. How many times had he tried to draw a picture of the likeness of that witch Delia? Jon might have been a skilled knight, but art was not his strong point. All of the portraits of Delia had looked like pigs—though that might just have been the subject matter, Alanna thought. No, this one of Thayet was not the most flattering, but his sketches had improved.

Jon was in love with Thayet.

_He lied_! her brain screamed. Alanna felt her rage rush through her. _He just told me, to my _face_, that he loved me. _Alanna gripped her sword, ready to strike at something, anything. How dare he! She trusted him, was sacrificing everything to marry him—and yet, he didn't love her!

_You lied to him, too._ _You don't love him, either. _

The thought stopped her in her tracks. Her anger wasn't justified—she agreed to marry him because he said he loved her, not because she loved him. She, in turn, was at fault as well.

Could she continue the charade? Make Jon think she loved him? Maybe Jon had only proposed because he thought her still in love with him, and was trying to be a good friend. Maybe Jon had been turned down by Thayet. Maybe…

_I can't do this_, Alanna thought. _I cannot pretend to love someone I don't. I can't do this to myself…and I can't do this to Jon. _

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**Review, please! **


	3. Too Late

**Author's Note: Thank you all for the reviews! I must tell you, Jon and Alanna are not capable of a mature relationship (at least not at first). **

**Ms. Pierce has copyright of the red-haired knight I wish I was. **

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**Chapter 3: Too Late**

Knowing what she had to do, Alanna walked out of the council room. Her plan was set: she had to find Jon and talk to him. She had to tell him she had changed her mind, and that it wouldn't be fair to him to marry a woman who didn't love him like he deserved. She knew Jon would take it badly, but if she pointed out his bluff, he would calm down. Besides, no one knew of their engagement. She chuckled to herself, thinking of the joke she and Jon could have, later in life, of their almost-marriage.

Hurrying along, Alanna began to notice people acting strangely towards her. They were …_bowing_? To _her? _What was going on? She passed two chambermaids and looked them directly in the eye. The two became flustered and dropped into deep curtseys.

"What is going on?" she demanded of them, jerking one to her feet.

"Your Ladyship—"

"Princess—"

"Princess?" Alanna almost shrieked.

One maid elbowed the other. "Stupid, she's not a princess yet!"

Alanna's face grew hot. "I am _not _a princess," she growled as she turned away.

She swore colorfully as one who has lived among soldiers can. Had Jon run down the halls telling everyone? Well, they were in for a surprise, because Alanna was _not _going to marry Jon.

"Alanna!" she heard. Turning, ready to attack, she saw Thayet, who was beaming. "I just heard!" Thayet squealed. She ran at Alanna and hugged her, jumping and spinning around.

"_Thayet_!" hissed Alanna. "_Not here_!" She grabbed the woman's hand and yanked her into a room.

"Alanna! Oh, Alanna! I'm so happy for you! I can't believe you're getting married! Oh, the wedding—" Thayet cried as Alanna shut the door. She made as if to grab Alanna into another hug, but Alanna held her off.

"Thayet. Stop. I'm not getting married."

Thayet's pretty face was confused. "But that's what Jon—I mean, His Highness—said!"

Alanna turned crimson. "Well—"

"Well, what?"

"I'm not getting married, Thayet."

"Did he—he, he _lied_?"

"Well, no," Alanna mumbled.

Thayet was thoroughly lost at this point. "He didn't lie…but you're not getting married?"

Alanna took a deep breath, willing away the blush from her face. "No. Jon proposed…again…and I said yes. But—" she raised a hand to stop Thayet's excited squeal. "—I am going to tell him that I've changed my mind."

"Alanna! You can't do that!"

"Can't do what?"

"Tell him you've changed your mind! He's told at least half the court already!"

Alanna groaned and put her head in her hands. "I'll kill him. He's going to be deader than anyone has ever been dead."

"Alanna," Thayet gently sat next to her and began rubbing her back. "You're just experiencing wedding jitters. A tad early. Everything will be fine, you'll see. You'll have such a wonderful wedding, and what a beautiful queen you'll be!"

Alanna snapped away from Thayet. "I don't _want _that! I'm not beautiful, Thayet. _You_ are. And I will be a wretched queen. Can you see me sitting on that throne? My feet won't even touch the floor! And I'll never be allowed to wear breeches or allowed near a sword again! Everything I've ever wanted and worked for will be gone in a single 'I do'! All for a man that doesn't actually love me!"

"Alanna! Of course he loves you!"

"He doesn't! He loves y—someone else!" Alanna burst, covering her mistake in time. Jon would not want this bandied around; the worse person she could reveal this to was the lady herself.

"Who?" Thayet had crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes, disbelieving.

Alanna could not make herself give up Jon's secret, especially since she had not confronted him about it. It was the greatest power she had over him; the proof that he did not love her.

"I can't tell you."

"Alanna, you sound like a little girl who does not want to eat her vegetables. This is time for the woman Alanna to confront reality. You can't roam the country forever as a single woman."

"Sure I can. It was my original plan before."

"Before what…or should I say, before _who_?"

Alanna cursed Thayet's intuition, but said nothing.

"Before Jonathan, yes? Alanna, you _loved_ him. Do not deny it. I've heard all the stories from all these knight-friends of yours, Sir Gareth and Sir Raoul."

"Yes, Thayet, I _loved _him. But I'm not sure I love him _now_."

"Alanna, you can_not_ do that to him. You're the last person left that Jon has, that Jon loved from before his parents died. You remind him of the happiness and innocence before everything happened. He needs that from you. The time when he had all the potential in the world; now he has to forget potential, and must _act._ If you take that from him, it would kill him."

Alanna narrowed her eyes at Thayet. "Since when did _you_ become an expert on Jonathan of Conté?"

Thayet blushed prettily, and shuffled her feet. "We've… been talking. He is trying to convince me to stay in the palace, and well, I thought that he was going to ask to court me…and I would change the subject to you, and ask him about you, and I asked him when the two of you were getting married. And he told me that he did still love you, but wasn't sure…I told him that he should try again, and recognize the mistakes from last time. He loves you, Alanna, and you—you can't hurt him like that. He needs someone who knows him to help him heal. And that person is you."

Alanna wanted to shake Thayet's shoulders and shout at her. _That person isn't me! It's _you_!_ Thayet understood Jon better than she did, and she understood Jonathan very well. She would always be the knight, who swore fealty to her king, but Thayet could hold her own against Jonathan; Thayet owed him nothing.

Everything was made clear: Jon had proposed to her because Thayet had rejected him. And she had accepted because George had rejected her.

Alanna forced a smile at Thayet. "I need to go see Jon."

"You'll think about what I said?" Thayet's dark eyes pierced Alanna's violet ones.

"Yes, Thayet," Alanna hurriedly promised, as she ran away. She needed to set things right with Jonathan; then Jon could pursue Thayet, and convince her that Thayet was the one for Jonathan. _And yourself? _A little voice asked. Alanna shook the voice aside. _I'll be a woman warrior, roaming the country and saving people. _The prospect no longer thrilled her as much, but she wouldn't tell anyone that.

Alanna was concentrating on what she would say to Jon, and so, did not notice a tall young man until she ran into him and fell down. Looking up, she gasped as she saw the Rogue smiling down at her.

"Nice trip?" he teased, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, and just the touch of his calluses on his palms made her heart beat faster. She released his hand as soon as she was standing, but unfortunately her balance had not been completely stabilized, and she wobbled a bit. George grabbed her waist to steady her, and once again under his touch, Alanna's heart began racing.

"Thanks," she muttered as she righted herself. He let go of her so she could adjust herself.

"Gods bless, you're usually not this clumsy," he grinned down at her.

Her face flushed. "Usually big oafs aren't running around, bumping into people."

George grinned at her flippant remark. "It's good you're home, lass."

"It's nice to be home," she agreed, not looking him in the face.

"An' here I thought you'd be liking the landscape in Sarain—not to mention the bitter cold near the Roof of the World. That must've been your cup of tea."

"And your cup of tea must be fighting off rogues who want to be King," Alanna snapped.

George chuckled, a wonderfully familiar sound that washed over Alanna like a warm bath. She felt herself relax and laugh along. _Only George can do that_, she thought absently, as the two friends talked. _It was nice to talk to him again this way_. _I've missed this._ With a jolt, Alanna realized what had been missing from her conversations with George, since she'd been home—there was a warmth radiating from him; he was no longer acting cold or distant. _He's flirting with me again. _Her heart rose at the thought, and for the first time, Alanna felt the absurd urge to sing. Instead, she threw back her head and laughed. She knew she looked crazy, but she didn't care. Maybe, just maybe, George still loved her.

This burst of euphoria disappeared as Jonathan rounded the corner. She felt as if she had been doused with ice water. "Alanna! There you are!" he cried when he saw her and hustled over. "Hello, George," he nodded as he took in the taller man. No one could have missed smugness that he seemed to exude.

"Hello, Jon," George said, friendly enough.

"So, have you heard the news?" Jonathan asked, putting his arm around Alanna. Alanna wiggled away from him.

"Uh, Jon—we need to talk about that—" she said, desperately trying to stop Jon from saying aloud what she did not want George to know. At least, not until the whole thing was put behind them, and they could joke about it.

"No, unless it's a rumor that Alanna here's now ten feet tall, and you've sprouted horns. Those I've heard," George teased, throwing a curious glance at Alanna.

"Jonathan—" Alanna began.

"Alanna, be quiet! Mithros, woman!" Jon ordered. Alanna stepped back, feeling as if she'd been slapped. _Woman? _Yes, she had gotten angry at Jonathan for calling her unfeminine, but to call her 'woman'? As if he owned her? As if she was not worth being called her name? She gritted her teeth, her eyes sharpening into daggers.

"What I was trying to say, George, before she interrupted me—"

"Jonathan, I _need _to talk to you," she growled.

"Alanna," Jonathan said, using the condescending tone he used to use when she was Squire Alan and he was forcing her to dance with some court beauty, "Interrupting is not polite. You will have to recall your manners when you are acting as my Champion. Rude Champions often have to fight more duels than polite ones."

"What's this? Alanna's Champion?" George asked.

"Yes," Alanna nodded, blushing red. _Maybe we can just talk about this and not the other thing_, she dared to hope.

"Ye got her to accept. Well done, Jon. You might be a good king yet," George teased, knowing Alanna would have objected strongly to the post.

"That's not the only thing she's accepted," Jon continued, officially crushing all Alanna's hopes.

"Jonathan—" she tried once again, in vain.

"Two things, Jon?" George teased. "You may be the greatest king Tortall's ever seen."

"Alanna's accepted _me_." Alanna felt her insides freeze up.

"What?" George asked. His brow furrowed as if he didn't quite understand.

"Jonathan—" Alanna began, quite ready to pull out Lightening and run him through.

"Alanna accepted my proposal of marriage," Jon said, smirking more and more with each word. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. She ducked her head.

George's jaw dropped and, with it, Alanna's heart. He stared at Jonathan for a minute, then turned his eyes to Alanna. Alanna could barely return his gaze.

"Well—well then," George croaked. Suddenly, he broke into a great huge smile. "Well, the two of you will shake things up around this fallin' apart kingdom. Congratulations, really, both of you." He reached out and shook Jon's hand heartily. "Good for you too, lass," he said, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. Alanna felt her heart sink down in her chest, heavy as stone. "I'm…proud of you, lass," he said quietly. "Them that love you will be proud to know you…and them that hate you will have to swallow their words. You'll make 'em dance to your tune."

Alanna gulped and looked at him, wanting to say something, anything, but nothing came out. George gave her a smile. Alanna scolded herself for thinking that it was wistful.

"I—I must be off," George fumbled only briefly with his words. "Dealings with Claw and the like." And he ran off.

"Well, that went well," Jon said, his smugness irking Alanna. She frowned at him. "What?" he asked. But Alanna's anger was so great and her heart was so torn, she could not get the words out. Instead, she slapped him across the face and marched away.

Stunned, Jon did nothing for a minute. But she heard him call as she headed back to her chambers to find Faithful. "We have to make the formal announcement soon!"

"You've already announced it to the world," she snarled. "I think it's too late for a formal announcement."

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**I do detest Jonathan, don't you? ;)**


	4. Do You Love Me?

**Author's Note: ****As always, Tamora Pierce holds the copyrights to the world of Tortall. Oh, and the title of this chapter came to me from the song of the same name from **_**Fiddler on the Roof. **_

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**Chapter 4: Do You Love Me?**

Alanna hid in her chambers for the next few days, her only companion was Faithful. And the cat was irritated with her, too.

_What made you accept Jon in the first place? Since when do you do things to please others? _

"I don't know. It's too different here," she snapped. "You're supposed to be the one consoling me, and telling me how to fix this."

_That's what your female friends are for. I am a cat. Cats don't console._

"You could pretend some sympathy."

_Oh, no. This is just awful. Poor you,_ Faithful said, rolling his purple eyes. Alanna refused to dignify his sarcasm with a response and turned over. She was lying across her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had already run through all of her sword and staff positions, and had done all her exercises, plus the ones Liam had taught her, four times. She should take a bath, she mused. Baths helped calm her down when she was upset.

She left her room and found a servant, who drew her hot water. After the footman, who had made the mistake of calling her 'princess', had taken his escape, Alanna pulled off her sweaty clothing and sank into the warm water. She sank down into the tub and just let her mind drift off. Maybe it was the relaxation of soaking, but Alanna was able to think about the whole situation without wanting to beat Jon over the skull...much. She had overreacted, and she owed it to Jon to explain to him what was bothering her. He didn't know what was going on in her head or on her side of the story. She hadagreed to marry him, and had figured out that she did not want to. It just had been a bad turn of fate that George had shown up. She would talk to Jon, and then when they cleared things up, she would talk to George.

Feeling much better and confident, she washed her hair and body diligently. She was calm enough and in such good spirits that when Faithful made a comment about how her fingers looked like raisins, she did not snap, only splashed water at him. She got out of the tub and donned some clean clothing. Whistling, she strapped Lightening to her side and made her way out of her chambers.

There she found the same servant who had called her 'princess.' The poor boy near collapsed when he saw her.

"Err—um, yer ladyship, no, lady—sir knight? Um…"

Alanna smiled as gently she could. "Don't worry yourself, lad. Just Lady Knight will do fine."

"Err—thank you, Lady Knight." He sounded relieved. "The prince requests your presence in his receiving room and he says that there are no excuses this time."

Alanna sighed. "I know; tell him I was on my way when you intercepted me."

The boy bowed hastily and scampered off towards Jon's chambers ahead of her. Alanna made herself walk slowly, knowing that if she ran, she'd just work herself up again. And Jon did not need a roaring lioness any time soon. He had quite enough on his plate.

Much more quickly that she would have liked, she found herself outside the receiving chamber. She took a deep breath and, steeling herself, opened the door. Jon sat at one table, head bent over stacks of parchment, scribbling furiously. Next to him stood Roger. Alanna's stomach clenched and her eyes narrowed. She hadn't had the misfortune to run into Roger since their interview on the wall, and she had been quite glad of that. Roger looked up at her entrance and leered at her. At least she knew where she stood with this royal, she thought darkly. _The bastard hates me, and I hate him. I just wish he'd stay dead. _

"Cousin, your lady is here."

Alanna did not miss the inflection Roger insinuated in his words. "You have such a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that I'm female, Roger. Pity. You've had time. Being stuck between this realm and the Black God's, you must have had some time to do things besides twiddle your thumbs."

"Ah, my Lady Tongue," Roger spat. "At least that part didn't change—your cheek is still the same as it was when you were Squire Alan. Pity, it might have been Knight Alan that would have learned to keep his manners. "

"Knight Alan was the one that killed you," Alanna reminded him.

"Ah, yes. I'd quite forgotten that. But you were only Knight Alan for a day, before I exposed you."

"And Knight Alan still managed to expose _you_ for what you were, a traitor and an attempted murderer. Before Knight Alan was Knight Alanna," Alanna spat.

"Murderer? Use that word carefully, my dear," Roger smirked.

"And you watch what _you_ say carefully," she growled. "I've a mind to use Lightening and be a murderer again." Her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and she was trembling with rage. She hated thinking of what she'd done—killing—but it was her job. And probably the only reason the royal family was still standing.

"Peace." Jon had been watching the battle with tired eyes. "Both of you, enough. Roger, go. Go back to Thom or whatever you do."

"As you wish, cousin." Roger's face dropped into an emotionless expression. He turned and left the room without another word. Alanna glared at his back, watching him go. She did not like the unsettled feeling she got after talking to him. He was hiding something and she was sure of it. What he was hiding, that was what she was unsure of. Her fist still on the hilt of Lightening, she considered chasing after the Duke and slicing his head off. _Maybe he'd stay dead this time_, she mused.

"Alanna." Jon turned her attention back to him. "You're going to have to learn to live with him. "

"Live with him, I won't. Occasionally snap at him, fine. Live with him, no."

"He'll be your cousin after this wedding."

"I shall treat him as an in-law. An unwanted and highly disliked in-law. He'll be just like family," Alanna snapped. She was beginning to feel rather cross again. However, Jonathan seemed to think that she was being funny and roared with laughter. He got up from his desk and hugged her, his body still shaking from laughter.

"Thank the gods for you, Alanna of Trebond and Olau. Without you, I'd have forgotten how to laugh." He kissed her forehead tenderly and then kissed her mouth. Alanna quickly pulled away. "Jon—" she said warningly.

"What? I _am_ allowed to kiss my betrothed," he argued, trying for another kiss. Alanna pushed him off.

"Jon, I'm being serious."

He sighed. "Well, if we're going to be serious, I could ask you why you've been avoiding me. I haven't seen you since we told George our happy news. In fact, _he _seemed happier about it than you."

"That's because you were so focused on rubbing it in his face that you didn't notice that I didn't want to talk about it in front of him!" Alanna yelled, her temper having gotten to the point where she was about to explode.

"What in the name of all the gods is wrong with you, woman?" Jon asked, grabbing her and shaking her.

Alanna, with a twist she learned from Liam, freed herself and dumped Jon unceremoniously on the ground. Jon, stunned, just sat there for a second and looked up at her. She could see herself reflected in his eyes. She stood above him, panting, red as a tomato, angry, and he didn't understand. She sighed and offered him a hand to help him up. He eyed it suspiciously.

"I'm not going to dump you on your ass again, Jon. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

Warily, he accepted her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. "Apology accepted. But I don't—"

Alanna held up her hand, weariness coming over her. _I need another hot bath._ "We're not on the same page, Jon, and we need to get there. Right now, I'm not sure we're even in the same book at this point. We really need to talk."

Jon leaned back against his desk. "I guess you're right. I just got so caught up with running the kingdom, and you, and everything. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Alanna said.

"We're going to need to figure out a way so that we can talk to each other and stay on the same page when we're married," Jon continued. "We can't have fights like this in the courtyard or the throne room. It just isn't done. And there'll be enough pressure on both of us to keep up appearances that it will be very difficult not to just explode at each other. I know that there will be fights; we don't always see eye-to-eye, but at least we need to know that we have a way to resolve these fights. If we don't have that, we won't have a good marriage."

Alanna sighed heavily. "That's actually what we need to talk about."

"I know! We can't just have days without speaking to each—"

"—No, Jon," Alanna interrupted. "Well, yes, but there's something more important first. I'm not sure we'll make a good marriage."

"What?" Jon stared at her, uncomprehending. "Alanna, we've already discussed this."

"No, not really. You made some valid points as to why it would be good for me to be queen and ways it would be good for the kingdom. But we never talked about whether or not it would be good for _us._ Yes, I know you better than most, and yes, I help you keep your head on straight, but that sounds more like a good advisor or a good friend. Not a good wife."

"I told you that I love you—"

Alanna fished in her pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. Carefully, she unfolded it and smoothed it out on the desk. It was Jon's sketch of Thayet.

Alanna watched as his face turned a dull red. He looked at the floor and then at her, beseechingly, as he opened his mouth to argue. Alanna held up her hand. "Look, Jon. Don't say anything. I know that you drew this, because I know your dismal drawing skills. I had to examine every portrait you drew of that cow Delia, remember? And _this_ was in your stack of papers in the council room. So don't deny it. Goddess knows, you draw pictures of the woman you fall in love with. I found the few you made of me—and there's a reason they are missing. I burned them. Jon, you only draw pictures of girls you are in love with. If you were in love with me, I would be the one you are drawing. It's logical."

Jon looked down, shame-faced. She knew that he knew that she knew. He looked as if he was bracing himself for her wrath. But she had none. Jon wasn't the man she was in love with; she did not see Thayet as a rival.

"Alanna…I am so sorry. I—"

Alanna laughed, surprising Jon. "You are expecting me to fly at you in a passion, aren't you?"

"Well…yes," owned Jon, who was eyeing her suspiciously.

"Jon, I don't care."

"You don't?" he asked incredulously.

"Jon, you don't love me like that anymore. And I'm pretty sure I don't love you, either. Why are we trying to pretend we are? You're in love with Thayet." Watching the softness Thayet's name brought to her friend's features, Alanna knew she was right. "Why are you playing this game, asking _me _to marry you?"

"She—she doesn't want me," Jon sighed, sinking into the chair next to the desk. "Every time I'd talk to her, all she ever wanted to talk about was you and I. She thinks that we're perfect together. There was never an opportunity to suggest the idea of her and me. The only times we strayed from that topic of the Lioness was when we talked about the kingdom. Goddess, she's an intelligent woman. Stubborn, but she could easily hand Gary defeat in a battle of wits."

"She's one of the smartest people I know," Alanna agreed. "And she doesn't use her beauty to entrap people, either."

"You're thinking of Delia."

"And some of the other ladies floating around this court."

"Princess Josiane?"

Alanna shrugged. "I've only been introduced to her. I know naught of her. But she doesn't give me the warm fuzzies."

"Me neither."

"So, why do we bother with them?" Alanna asked, pulling herself to sit on the desk.

"Because we must. Because they're my subjects. And the people you've sworn to protect."

"Mithros, I knew there was a catch to all this knight business," Alanna joked. Jon joined her in laughter, but it didn't last long.

"So…about this betrothal thing—" Alanna started.

Jon sighed and looked up at his Champion. He stood and cupped her face gently. "Alanna, what you said about Thayet is true. I am…infatuated with her. But…" he cast about for the words he wanted.

"I don't like 'buts,'" Alanna warned.

"—_But_ I still have my feelings for you. You're the only one I've ever said that I loved and really _meant_ it. I still do mean it. Maybe it's not the same way as before. But love has to have more than just passion. There has to be friendship and there has to be respect. I know that I have that for you and you have that for me. I know you, Alanna."

Alanna could not tear her eyes away from his. She could hear the truth ringing through every syllable. A lump rose in her throat as he leaned down and softly kissed her. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her while she soaked in his words. A warm feeling in the pit of her stomach rose as she leaned into him.

Gently, Jon pulled back and put his hands on her shoulders. "Alanna, love isn't all passion and sex. There are so many different kinds of love. It's a shame we've only got one word for it. There's the love that we used to have and then there's a deeper understanding of each other and knowledge of one another and mutual respect. That, too, is love." Alanna couldn't breathe. His words were powerful and they were making her think. Jon wrapped his arms around her. "Maybe our love isn't that perfect love, the love that all the minstrels sing of, where we want each other forever and we never fight and we never misunderstand each other and never find a way of mending each other. But _that_ kind of love I don't think that exists anymore. But we have is real. And it's a love, just a different kind of love." Alanna looked up into her prince's face. He was crying. She reached up and wiped away his tears. "Mother and Father were besotted with each other, everyone knew. I used to dream of finding someone just like that. Maybe not Mother, exactly. But a woman who would have the same effect on me that she had on Father. But I don't think I want that anymore, Alanna. Would I kill myself and leave behind my child, just because I couldn't live without my wife? I don't want a love like that. What I want is someone familiar and someone I can cherish. Someone who I know would not want me to take my life if I were left behind and she had moved into the next life. I need you, Alanna."

He was hurting badly, Alanna knew. He was bleeding from the inside—his parents' deaths took more of a toll than he ever let anyone see. Alanna's heart constricted for her friend. She hugged him hard as she could as he sobbed into her shoulder. Slowly, Jon regained control of himself and pulled himself from her embrace. His beautiful blue eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot as he looked at her. She looked back at him, her own eyes wet.

"Alanna," Jon asked softly, clutching her hand to his chest, "do you love me?"

Alanna's tears poured over. Jon was not asking for her romantic love this time, not the cliché love. He was asking, again, for her hand—for her hand to hold him steady, for her hand to hug him, for her hand to wipe away his tears. He wasn't asking her to have that blissful happy-ever-after passion love.

"Yes, Jon," she said softly. "I love you."

**

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****I suppose I should feel bad for Jon, shouldn't I?**


	5. What Are Friends For?

**Author's Note: ****Just so everyone is aware, the story is still in the month of May, in the year 439 H.E. I do not own these characters. I just kind of kept going with the last chapter and never stopped. **

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**Chapter 5: What Are Friends For? **

"Your Ladyship, please stop fidgeting!" cried the poor seamstress for the hundredth time.

"Really, Alanna! It wouldn't take this long if you would hold still!" scolded Thayet.

Alanna made a face. She had been standing on the stool for over an hour, being poked and prodded and pinched as the seamstresses fluttered around, trying to put together this contraption of a dress by this afternoon.

Thayet's fitting had only taken half an hour, leaving the woman in a gorgeous red gown. Alanna had asked her to stay on as lady-in-waiting. At least she was one lady-in-waiting Alanna could trust. All of the other candidates were the sort of women Alanna either despised or couldn't relate to. There were the simpering females who fainted at a drop of blood and who only spoke of embroidery and who had been seen dancing with whom. These ladies were shocked by Alanna's breeches. And there were the Delia-types—manipulative, power-hungry hussies. Alanna, at this point, was not sure which group was worse. Delia and the few like her had thrown enough barbs in public, though were now forced to retreat subtly. But the conservative wallflowers had greater numbers. Alanna sighed. Jon had told her to think of it as strategy in battle, assigning which platoon, no matter how detested, where it would perform best. Alanna had informed him that the best solution would be to hang up her general's hat, if the only troops at her disposal were like this.

"Ouch!" Alanna cried, as she was stabbed with a pin.

"Sorry, your ladyship," apologized the seamstress.

"Remind me again, Thayet, why I am wearing this?"

"The formal announcement of your engagement to Prince Jonathan is _tonight_, Alanna."

"No, no, I _know _that. I am not that much of a ninny," Alanna snapped.

_Yes, you are_.

"I didn't ask for your input," Alanna snapped at Faithful, who was playing with a ball of yarn he had found among the seamstresses' bags.

_Well, you got it anyway. What else I am here for? _

Alanna ignored her impudent cat and addressed Thayet. "Why am I wearing a gown? Why am I not wearing something like the outfit I wore when I presented Jon with the Jewel?"

"Because it is not appropriate for a future queen to be dressed as such. You have to be presented to the people in the way they wish to see you."

"They wish to see me all fancied up? They know I'm a knight."

"Yes, but you are going to have to learn to make some sort of compromise. You're going to have to learn to wear gowns."

"And you like wearing pretty things, don't you, Alanna?" Alanna, disregarding the little scream of impatience the seamstress made as the fabric shifted, turned to see Eleni Cooper, along with Rispah, standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Mistress Cooper," Alanna admitted, blushing a little.

"Turn back and face forward so this good woman does not feel the need to stab you. And just think of this as playing dress-up as you used to when you visited me." The older woman smiled tenderly on Alanna. Alanna was immensely grateful that Eleni was not cross with her for choosing the prince over—Alanna brushed that thought from her mind. She was marrying _Jon_.

"Thank you, Mistress Cooper," Alanna said. She turned, surprised that two other voices had echoed her sentiments: Thayet and the head seamstress. Eleni cocked her eyebrow. Thayet and the seamstress looked at each other. Thayet began to giggle. "We're thanking you for making this fuss-budget stand still."

Alanna stuck her tongue out at her friend. "I was only trying to be logical. You can't say I'm _not _a knight, 'cause I am. And Tortall knows it. Don't think you can pull the wool over their eyes. And I'll be carrying Lightening. It will look odd with Lightening strapped to this great hoop skirt."

Thayet and the seamstress exchanged another look. "Alanna," began Thayet gently, "You won't be carrying your sword tomorrow."

"What? No one told me I couldn't!" Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry."

"Why can't I carry Lightening?" Alanna demanded, looking around the room.

"Men, generally, carry swords. Women do not. It is to show that you are a woman, agreeing to marriage with a man. It's defining the gender roles. So no one can call you a male in disguise and accuse Jon of preferring men…or manly females. It's always showing that he will be the future king and you will be his queen. It's never been said a monarch was the queen's king. But that's only my guess." Thayet shrugged her dainty shoulders. No one else had a clue. Alanna huffed, her foul mood deepening. She had half a mind to jump off the stool and demand of Jonathan why she could not carry a sword.

"That's a load of horse manure. It's because Jon's advisors want to show everyone I'm proper, isn't it? I can read between the lines of what you've just said. That even though I've my shield, I know my place as a woman? I've heard enough talk."

"Alanna, cool your temper," warned Eleni, knowing the signs of the young woman's wrath. "It won't do you a bit of good to snap at them. They won't take it well."

"Have you heard the rumors, Mistress Cooper?" Alanna demanded. "The rumor that I bedded an entire regiment behind Jonathan's back? That I bedded every officer of the King's Own? That Roger was my lover and that I got Thom to bring him back so we could take the kingdom? That I bedded Duke Gareth to get my shield? That I bedded every single one of my year-mates so they wouldn't tattle on me?" Her voice became shriller as she listed things she'd heard whispers of. "That it's my fault Jon's reign is cursed because he encourages a woman to do a man's duty? That my belly was full of child and that's why I went away—that's why I went hunting for the Dominion Jewel, to cover it all up?"

"Alanna, hush!" scolded Eleni. "_We _know it's none true."

"Since when have you cared what others thought of you?" asked Thayet.

"I have to!" Alanna snapped. "Because it's my job as queen to present a good face to the people, to care about what they think! No, I'm not to care about the people themselves, but only what they think of me!"

"Who, by the Mother, told you that?" asked Eleni, thunderstruck.

"Certain members of the Council of Lords and Jon's advisors," Alanna muttered darkly. "They've been hounding me, every chance they get for the past two weeks. I've been avoiding the fencing courts—it seems like they wait there for me. They're constantly at me, telling me to start acting like 'a proper lady of noble blood' and such like. They tell me to do this and to do that and they have such long lists of what's expected of a queen! And it all repeats. The only things I can make that a queen must do is wear skirts, smile, and have babies! They won't listen when I remind them that I'm Champion as well!"

"Which of them has said that?" asked Eleni. "I can think of plenty of the advisors who aren't all that old-fashioned!"

"There _are_ good, sensible men," Alanna reassured Eleni. "Myles, Gary and his father, my Lord Provost. But there still are others that are much more conservative-minded. Those are the ones that tell me how to do things."

"Alanna, when they suggest something, you should smile at them gently and say 'I will reflect on the good advice my lord has given me.' They'll think you've agreed and you haven't, actually. Then you can think it over on your own time. Giving an appearance of acquiescing usually is enough for old pompous windbags," Thayet told her.

Alanna shook her head glumly. "I'd never have thought of that, Thayet."

Thayet smiled gently. "I only know this because I watched my mother do it."

Alanna dropped her gaze, thinking of the mother Thayet lost and the mother Alanna never knew. "And 'cause you were raised to be a queen." _Unlike me._ Thayet nodded meekly.

"Any more ideas for this prickly lass to try then?" asked Eleni, diverting the subject. Thayet nodded and began giving Alanna ways for her to appear to agree to what the Council wanted without actually saying yes. Thayet would be rather adept at doing all of this, Alanna noted. She was not talented at seeming—she was too blunt and too forward. Pretending to be a boy was one thing; diplomacy was quite another. Aggravated, Alanna muttered that maybe Thayet should be queen.

"Oh no!" Thayet objected. "I don't want to be queen!"

"Well, I don't want it, either!" snapped Alanna.

"But you're willing to do it for Jon," Thayet said slyly. Alanna looked away from her friend. She _was _willing to do it for Jon; she was doing a rather large favor for a friend. _A friend who loves me_, she reminded herself. It got harder to remember Jon's words about love. She knew in her heart that she needed to help Jonathan and that this was the solution they'd found. She knew he needed her, but there was a piece of her that still tugged away. She knew she couldn't be selfish this time. Jonathan was a friend in need.

The announcement came too quickly for Alanna's taste. Dressed in her new lavender gown, she stood nervously behind the velvet curtain, waiting. A part of her scoffed at herself, how she told herself she'd never wait for anyone, especially not for a man. A trumpet sounded and the staff of the herald knocked against the floor, calling everyone's attention. She heard Jon's official voice carry across the crowded hall. Throngs of people had shone up for this: nobility and common, alike. She did not listen to the words Jon spoke, knowing what they were about: how he was destined to serve Tortall, how he knew his duty, and how he had found the right partner to share this power with.

The curtains drew back and Alanna stepped forward. She descended the steps as the herald had had her practice over and over again. Myles was waiting at the bottom of the staircase to take her arm. She smiled at her adopted father and he gently squeezed her arm. Wordlessly, father and daughter walked towards the throne, where Jonathan stood waiting. He gave her a smile and she returned it. As they neared the step, both Myles and Alanna knelt before Jonathan.

"Rise, Sir Myles of Olau. Do I have your blessing and permission, before Mithros and the Great Mother Goddess, to take your daughter's hand in marriage?"

"My liege, you have my blessing to ask of her hand in marriage."

Alanna grinned, knowing that Myles had changed the words of the answer so that Jonathan would have to ask her himself. It was a way of showing the stuffy conservatives that Alanna had a choice in the matter.

"Thank you, sir. Rise, Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau." Alanna made a bit of a face at 'Lady' but let no one see it. She faced Jonathan. He looked handsome, she thought. His dark clothing made his bright eyes shine. He knelt in front of her, a ring box in his hand. "Lady Alanna, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and my queen?"

She gazed down at him. She opened her mouth to say her answer that she had practiced in front of the mirror and paused. A face floated in front of her, a smiling face with hazel eyes and a large nose. Jonathan gave her a puzzled look at her hesitation. She pushed the image away.

"Yes."

The sounds of the crowd cheering and clapping startled Alanna. She turned and looked at the people assembled before her, all celebrating. She noted varying degrees of unhappiness in some faces, but the majority was jubilant. _They _thought this was a good idea. Jon must have caught the zeal from some people, because he kissed her hand repeatedly. He slid the ring onto her finger and Alanna marveled at the pretty thing. This was no trinket, but a real diamond gleaming from its sapphire and gold setting. It was a bit big for her, and not her style at all, she mused, but it was pretty. She looked up at Jon, her fiancé, and smiled. He held up her arm for all to see. The crowd roared and Alanna couldn't help but laugh—the enthusiasm was contagious. Jon must have caught it too because he leaned down and captured her lips for all to see. As they pulled back, Alanna realized that there was no warmth in her heart or her stomach as there usually was—and she knew that Jon had felt none of it too. But there was gratitude and love, _their_ kind of love, in his eyes as he kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

"What are friends for?" she whispered back. He smiled, and she knew they were on the same page. They didn't love each other, but their friendship was intact. And that was what this kingdom had to lean on: the strong friendship of its king and its Champion.

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**Things seem to be going well for Alanna & Jon...right now...REVIEW! **


	6. Hiding

**Author's Note: Tamora Pierce created the world of Tortall, and Alanna and Jonathan. I just made them get married ;) **

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**Chapter 6: Hiding **

**August 439 H.E. **

Alanna heard her name being called across the fencing courts. Pox, they'd found her. It was shortly after dawn; who would think to look for her here? And why at this gods-cursed hour? She wasn't needed for at least another three hours. Without glancing about to see who it was, Alanna grabbed her sword and sheath and headed away from the voice. Where should she go? She hid in the boxing ring last week—the stables! The stables were always a good place to hide! She could count on Stefan to hide her from whatever court function or fitting she was supposed to be at. She'd go back in time for them to all fuss over her in a few hours.

The glory and joy of the formal engagement had worn off. For the past three months, Alanna had been badgered by everyone. Now that she was officially a Princess Royal, a sort of schedule was supposed to be upheld. Before the wedding and the coronation, she was supposed to take tea at least once with every noble family who was in attendance at the palace, which was practically all of them because everyone wanted to know just what the queen-to-be was like. They wanted to know if the legends were true…and if the rumors were true. Alanna had been quite close to calling out a few lords when Thayet had finally stepped in and invited them all to tea, in Alanna's chambers. It was quite a feat, but it left Alanna with a bit more free time. The Council of Lords was not happy that she'd found time to practice the "manly arts" and had tried several times to limit her access to the practice courts. They had the notion that they could defeat the knight in her. It hadn't worked yet.

Alanna had thrown herself into her training. She was constantly fencing, or riding, or boxing, or practicing—anything and everything to escape. She couldn't leave on a quest, because she was tied to the palace as the prince's intended. Jon promised her that a few months after the wedding, he'd find some excuse to send her for a visit to the Bloody Hawks. They were inordinately pleased that she was to be queen, according to Jon; nothing made them happier than to think that the "Woman Who Rides like a Man" would be a ruler, alongside the Voice of the Tribes. However, Alanna suspected that Jon over-exaggerated their happiness, trying to placate her. It seemed just like another addition to the laundry list of reasons why it was best Alanna married Jon. If recalling Jon's tender words was difficult before the engagement ceremony, it was triply hard to do so now. It seemed then, that Jon would always be there to remind her that he loved her, in their kind of love, and that nothing bad would happen. He hadn't mentioned the scrutiny she'd receive as she had to face parts of her duty alone. Thank the Goddess for Thayet.

Without Thayet, Alanna would have been totally lost. Thayet, appointed First Lady-in-Waiting, was one of the only ones keeping Alanna sane. She continued to treat the red-haired lady knight the same as she always had—and that was a relief, because there were far too many people who were cozying up to her than Alanna cared for. And it was no mean task to keep Alanna from grabbing her sword and running half these people through. Plus this, Thayet was fending off suitors, men attracted by her beauty flocked around her. Among them were Gary of Naxen and Raoul of Goldenlake. Alanna liked both men as friends, but could not picture Thayet on either of their arms. It was funny, though, how often, when Raoul came to call, that he and Buri would find themselves sparing verbally. Alanna could tell that he was intrigued by the little K'mir and Buri seemed to enjoy the tongue-lashing she gave the big knight. Alanna would have tried her hand at matchmaking, but she knew tales of his family and their quest for a titled wife for Raoul. Buri would not be accepted by the Goldenlakes. Thayet, perhaps—after all, _she_ was a princess, though a foreign one. The other obstacle to the match would be Buri's obsession with another man—George Cooper.

Alanna tried very hard to be supportive of Buri's crush on George. Really, she did. But to hear her ex-lover's name every five seconds was very telling on her nerves. George's first impression on Buri had permanently branded the tough girl. "_I'm rarely that impressed…"_ She talked of nothing else when she felt safe talking about it. Alanna ground her teeth in frustration. She had not seen George in months, and missed him dreadfully. She told herself that it was only his friendship she missed, and the easy way he made her feel. She did _not_ miss his flirting, his twinkling eyes, his kisses, his embraces… She always flung the thoughts away as quickly as she could. It did not do to dwell on the past when it was not possible for that past to make it to the future. She was marrying Jon now, and it seemed that George had removed himself from her life. She had seen him on occasion, but had never the chance for more than a passing 'hello.' She wasn't sure who made sure of it, herself, George, or an unknown power, but she tried to tell herself it was for the best. Best that she avoided someone that reminded her that her heart did not necessarily belong to the king she had promised it to.

Alanna shook her head as she hurried towards the stables. She needed to stop having these thoughts. Faithful was constantly scolding her, telling her that she was being foolish. She knew that already; she didn't need a constellation to remind her. She greeted Stefan in the stables and he seemed cheerful enough.

"Hidin' again, yer ladyship?" he chuckled.

Alanna grinned. "I don't know what wretched soul put that idea into your head."

"O' course, yer ladyship."

"None of that now, Stefan. I'd ruther I was still Master Alan to you."

"Well, Mistress Alanna, ye can't be Master Alan no more. 'E don't exist," Stefan winked. "Majesty say yer causin' all sort o' ruckus up in th' palace, runnin' and givin' them fusspots what-have-you, Gods bless you."

"George said that? Where's he been getting his news? I haven't seen him about," Alanna answered lightly.

"Ay, 'e's been about, but up to 'is elbows in work, 'e is. That Claw feller, well, e's plottin' sommat. What wiv th' wedding and th' ball comin' up—George's got t' be sure nothin's gonna harm th' prince an' his bride." Alanna blushed but said nothing. She wondered what Stefan's opinion of her marrying Jon was. "Well, mayhap, you could answer me a question or two. Why's the weddin' and the coronation for yerself not th' same day?"

Alanna sighed. "Jon decided that it's better for the ceremonies to be separate. I'm not entirely sure of his reasoning. Could be that we'll attract more attention—drag out the advertising Jon's doing that he's marrying a legend and breaking all the rules and what-not." She rolled her eyes. Stefan chuckled at her.

"Ay, there could be sommat o' what the prince's tryin' t' do. But that don't explain why yer here now, th' day o' yer weddin'. Isn't that princess friend of your'n got sommat fer ye t' do?"

Alanna grimaced. "I'm sure she's got plenty for me to do. But… I just needed to be alone for one last time. Before it'll be impossible for me to slip away from everything. It won't be as easy after I'm officially married to the heir to the throne." She sighed very heavily. "Queen Alanna won't have as much freedom as Lady Knight Alanna."

"Nay, yer right. Come t' see Moonlight afore that, I suppose," Stefan nodded knowingly.

"Yes. Moonlight's only one of the few reminders I've got left that I'm a knight and not some stuffed doll."

"Surely, Prince Jon's got 'em all reminded yer Champion and what-not."

Alanna shook her head. "Jon's got too much else to worry about. Once the engagement was out of the way, there was all the planning for the wedding and the coronation, especially since the dolt decided it's to be separate."

"Haven't ye anyone else then?"

"I've got Thayet and Buri and Faithful," Alanna said.

"An' yer brother?"

Alanna shook her head. "No. I tried visiting him, but he's too busy. And Roger's always there. I can't stay around him much without wanting to kill him again. And Thom doesn't want my help. He's too damn proud. Never mind he's dying." Alanna gritted her teeth at the image of her pale, deathly-hot twin. If only his damned arrogance would burn away. If only he'd let her help him.

"There's sommat unnatural about a man that walks again. An' from tales, th' Duke wasn't much natural to begin with. But I'm right sorry t' hear 'bout yer brother, Mistress Alanna. What about th' Shang Dragon? There's still tales bein' bandied about of th' two of ye."

"Liam's gone. He can't stay in places for long time without getting restless. He's off to see what he can do to help Sarain. Said he'd be back in time for the coronation, though." Funny, Alanna hadn't thought much of Liam since his departure. She missed the big man, but was not heart-sore for him. Their time together had been brief and fun, but that was all. However, Stefan's mention of Liam Ironarm had brought back words he had spoken to her, just before she had given Jon the Dominion Jewel.

_When you're queen of Tortall one day, you'll thank me. _

_Guess I ought to thank you, you bugger_, Alanna thought, surprised at the sarcastic tone in her head. She wasn't _unhappy_ she was marrying Jon, but she wasn't _happy. _Not the kind of happy that brides are supposed to be. She hated reminding herself that she wasn't your typical blushingly-in-love bride. Blushing really wasn't involved in her and Jon's kind of love…except when they tried to go to bed. They had tried a few times, and sure, it had been enjoyable. But Alanna had felt a void—they may desire each other's body, but it wasn't the same; it was different from when she had been with Liam, and George, and even before with Jon. There was no emotion in it now.

"Alanna? Alanna!" She could hear them calling her. They'd noticed her missing. Goddess! She must have looked anxious because Stefan peered at her nervously. "Want ter hide up there?" he suggested, pointing to the hay loft. The idea was tempting, and Alanna sorely wished she could. But she grimly reminded herself that as a knight, she had to face her opponent head-on. And this was going to be no different, except in battle, she could grimace and didn't have to look happy about it. This required her to hide her emotions behind a smile. She turned and met the unhappy eyes of Thayet.

"Alanna of Trebond and Olau, you are in _so_ much trouble. _Today _is your wedding day! I've been hunting you all over the palace! I swear, by the Four Horse Lords—" Thayet began. But at one look at Alanna's face, she stopped and her anger faded from her features. Alanna was fighting back tears. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly.

Was she alright? Alanna wondered vaguely. It registered in the back of her mind that Stefan was still there and listening. Was she alright? Was she sane? Was she _okay_? The answer in her mind was a resounding _NO_. But she could not verbalize it, so she just shook her bowed head, trying to hold back the tears threatening to course down her cheeks.

"Oh, Alanna," Thayet said simply as she wrapped her arms around Alanna. "It will be okay. Everything will be fine."

Would it? Alanna wondered as she cried into her friend's shoulder. Would everything be fine?

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_**I**_** will be fine...if you review ;) **


	7. Husband and Wife

**Author's Note: Tamora Pierce owns. **_**Pas moi**_**.**

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**Chapter 7: Husband and Wife**

"And do you, Lady Alanna of Trebond and Heir of Olau, Knight of the Realm of Tortall, and King's Champion, take this man, Sir Jonathan of Conté, Knighted Prince and Heir of the Realm of Tortall, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

Alanna's voice rang through the temple. It sounded strong and assured, but to her ears, it sounded flat and tired. It carried across the bright room, decorated with the banners of Conté and Trebond and Olau. Alanna's own personal banner, the lioness rampant, was there as well. White flowers on green branches graced the windows that allowed great slabs of sunshine to permeate the room.

"In the eyes of Mithros, the Great Goddess, and all the gods, I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest's words rang out over the crowd. "You may now kiss the bride."

In a splash of color, the white-silver magic of the priest surrounded the couple as their own personal Gifts, violet and sapphire, intertwined around their joined hands and then exploded throughout the vast room.

Jon smiled at Alanna and she tried to give him one back. His eyes registered her unhappiness, but he could not talk to her then. They were in front of their subjects and had to appear as if all their dreams were coming true. He slowly lifted the veil from her face and lowered his face to meet hers. When their lips touched, the gathered assembly went crazy, leaping to their feet. Hats were thrown and jubilant cheers rang out.

Turning to face the crowd, Jon tenderly held Alanna's hand. She could feel that he was trying to convey a soothing message by the way his hand squeezed hers. She tried to take heart that she, at least, was not alone in her troubles. She smiled at him, and feeling like a performing monkey, kissed his cheek. Together, they walked back down the aisle to the waiting carriage, ready to escort them back to the palace for the ball. Passing so many familiar faces, Alanna smiled for their sake—they were all so happy for her, that she couldn't help but feel some of their happiness. It did not penetrate her heart and lift her spirits, but their smiles made it easier to mirror the expression on her own face. There was Thom and Faithful and Thayet and Buri and Raoul and Gary and Liam and Eleni and Myles and Duke Gareth and Coram and Rispah and Maude and some friends from the Blood Hawk tribe… Everyone was there, well almost everyone. One beloved face was missing from the crowd, but she would not dwell on it.

Halfway through, Alanna tripped over the long white dress and almost fell. Jon caught her and helped her to her feet. He laughed as she muttered something about gods-cursed heeled shoes.

Once in the carriage, she relaxed against the plush velvet seats. She pulled off the gods-cursed heeled shoes and put her feet up on the seat. Jon wrinkled his nose at them and she giggled, and put one of her feet in his face. He grabbed it and started tickling her foot and Alanna shrieked with laughter.

"Well, that went smoothly," Jon said as he released her foot.

"You could say that," Alanna said lightly, not really wanting to talk about what had just happened—that she had promised eternal fidelity to this man, that she would cleave to him and only him, that she would be by his side in both sickness and health, that she would obey him in every matter, and that he would be the most important person in her life.

"I'm surprised at the turn-out. I mean, every noble house was represented, but the crowds, Mithros! I think all of Corus came."

"Well, it's not every day that the king-to-be marries a lady knight who happens to be his Champion and a legend to boot," Alanna teased.

"Why is it that your accolades are longer than mine?" demanded Jonathan, grabbing for her foot again. "Perhaps it is to make up for your height."

Alanna stuck her tongue out and yanked her foot out of his reach. Talking with Jon was still fun, and their friendship was still as intact as ever, but Alanna was afraid to talk to him about deeper topics. She managed to dodge all intimate, meaningful conversation until they reached the palace. A footman opened the door and Alanna scrambled to pull her shoes back on, wincing as they pinched her toes. She was about to climb out when Jon offered her his hand.

"And now, my wife—" Jon began, adopting a mock-formal tone. However, he stopped as Alanna grimaced. It was hard for her to think of Jon as her husband, even though he was…and had been for now almost half an hour. And now her _husband _looked dead-set on having a serious conversation with her. She scrambled for the door of the carriage, but he stopped her with one of his kingly glares—the kind of glare that you just didn't disobey. He leaned out of the carriage and shut the door.

"Alanna, I know that I have been busy with dealing with matters of the state and everything else in the world, but I know there's something wrong."

Alanna sat back on the seat and did not look at him. She chose, instead, to marvel at the intricacies of the miniscule silver-and-gold embroidery on the white silk of her wedding dress.

"Alanna…"

"Jon, there's nothing wrong. You don't need to worry about it. I'm just…tired."

"Alanna, look at me." His cool hand cupped her beet-red chin and lifted it so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "I am your husband. Why do you make that face whenever I say that?"

"I'm just not used to it," Alanna lied lamely.

"You're lying."

Alanna jerked her head back from his grip. "I am not—"

"I don't know why, but I know that you will tell me when you're ready. I trust you, Alanna. But I have noticed that you are not happy, and you've been trying to put on a good face. There's a reason you're a knight and not a Player, Alanna. What is bothering you?"

"I—I…just don't know that I am ready for this." Alanna waved her arm to encompass Jon, the carriage, and the palace outside the window.

"Alanna," Jon sighed, though he sounded suspiciously relieved, "I will be here, and no matter what happens, they can't hurt you."

Hurting, Alanna thought, doesn't always mean physical blows. It can mean, more often than not, blows dealt by words and looks.

"I know, Jon," she sighed, ready to be done this conversation.

"But you don't, or else I wouldn't need to remind you. Alanna, I love you."

Our kind of love, Alanna added in afterthought.

"Our kind of love," she whispered softly.

He grinned at her and she took his outstretched hand. He helped her out of the carriage, and they walked down the carpeted path towards the ball. Inside, they went their separate ways. Alanna was hustled off to the bridal chamber to change out of her wedding dress. Thayet helped her by unbuttoning the hundred buttons that ran down her back, while Eleni Cooper removed Alanna's simple coif and veil. While the women bustled about her, Alanna gazed down at the gold wedding band that glistened on her left hand. She'd have to wear this for the rest of her life. The rest of her life seemed like such a long time.

Thayet brought out her second gown, a silvery blue. Thayet had objected to her wearing black on her wedding day. Mourning for King Roald and Queen Lianne was temporarily suspended for this celebration. Eleni and Thayet pulled the material over Alanna, who only moved to step into the gown or to slide her arms into the sleeves. She caught her hand caught in the split sleeves and her legs tangled momentarily in the soft material of the dress. Thankfully, her shoes were soft, flat slippers that were the same color as her gown. Thayet combed down the curls she had painstakingly created in Alanna's hair only hours before. Now, it hung to her shoulders in loose waves. Eleni clasped a gold chain with a blue-green stone around her throat, and added earrings that matched. Alanna tucked her ember-stone on an extra-long chain down between her breasts, hidden from all prying eyes. She preferred to keep the gift from the Mother secret. She clutched it momentarily, sending a prayer to the Goddess that she had chosen the right path to help her keep her head held high. She wondered, briefly, why the Goddess had not spoken with her recently—she had seemed most interested in Alanna's overcoming her fear of love, and now her chosen was married. Touching the anti-pregnancy charm behind the ember, Alanna flinched thinking that soon someone was going to make her take it off.

Thayet chose to stay behind and put away the wedding gown, while Eleni guided a mute Alanna from the chamber, down the steps, to where Jon was waiting for her. He smiled at her. "You look beautiful, love."

She smiled weakly. "Thanks. You, uh, look beautiful too." Jon did look very handsome in his dark blue and gold hose and doublet. His black hair offset his golden crown and he looked every inch the king he was going to be soon.

He took her hand and kissed it softly. "Come, Lioness. Let us go dazzle the court with your beauty."

Alanna cocked one eyebrow at him. "I'm no beauty, and you know it."

Jon grinned at her but said nothing as they had reached the Great Hall, where everyone was gathered. They entered the room, and everyone clambered to their feet to show their respect for the prince and his bride. Jon guided Alanna to her seat, and they sat at the dais above everyone. Once they were seated, the entire court followed suit and the courses began. Dish after dish, delicacy after delicacy was served, and Alanna felt sorry for the poor pages and squires who must have been running ragged, abused by Master Oakbridge and the guests alike. When the last course had been served and the last booming toast to their good health and hope for many children, Jon nodded to the conductor who began waving his baton and music began. Alanna followed Jon to the dance floor as she must, dreading the moment. She had never been able to dance as a girl. She stepped on his toes several times and stumbled quite a lot.

"Tsk, tsk, you're clumsy, my princess."

Alanna stomped on his foot and then whirled away from him as the dance required. When she returned to him, he was still wincing. She laughed at that.

"Now, Jon, you're hogging the bride to yourself. That's not fair," cut in Gary, flanked by Raoul and Alex. "Let us try the Lioness. Goddess knows we would have danced with her a fair amount of times if we didn't think she was a boy."

"I wouldn't have danced with you oafs, even if I was a girl back then," Alanna said tartly.

"And she's got her claws out," laughed Raoul.

"Alanna, go on. I'll find someone else to dance with," Jon said. Alanna saw his gaze flick over to the left, where Thayet just happened to be standing alone. Alanna rolled her eyes.

"No, my feet hurt from your horrid dancing. I'll sit down now," she said, laying the sarcasm and malice on a little more thickly than she meant to.

Jon didn't catch on. "_My _horrid dancing? _Your _feet?" he asked, mock-appalled. Alanna didn't respond and made her way back to the dais where she was assigned to be seated. There she plopped down into her chair and put her head in her hands. Someone put a glass of wine in front of her and Alanna downed it all in one gulp and held her glass out to the pourer for another.

"Will _I_ have to walk _you_ to your chambers this evening?"

Alanna looked up and saw her step-father standing over her. Myles had a mug in his hand, but it did not appear that he had drunk from it yet. He sat down next to her in Jon's chair and a nearby footman started to protest, but Myles waved him away.

"My son-in-law will have to forgive me for sitting in his seat."

Alanna grinned. "Into your cups already, are you?"

Myles pretended to be offended. "Alanna of Trebond and Olau, don't judge me."

"I'm not judging—it's a bit late for me to judge," she replied smiling. But Myles was distracted.

"Alanna of Trebond and Olau…I suppose you are Alanna of Conté now?" Alanna stared at him. She hadn't thought about that. "I told you once that I drink so that I don't notice the goings-on of this court. It's hard not to want to down a whole keg when you're watching your daughter get caught up in it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not happy about this, Alanna. And I let you do it, anyway."

"Myles—"

"No, Alanna. I watched you pretend for the past months, and I didn't intervene. I thought that this was what you wanted. I was so blind and I was so stupid. I have failed you as a father."

Alanna had no response. She couldn't blame Myles for any of this. She had known that she was not happy, but she had let herself be swept up along in the tide and not fight for herself. She had made it easy for everyone else, something she had sworn she would never do.

"Myles, that's not true."

"Dammit, Alanna! I know it's true! Don't try to make me feel better! Don't lie to me! I am your father, no matter how much of a foolish, wretched one I may be. This is—"

"No, no. You _are_ right. I'm not happy. This is not what I wanted when I disguised myself as a boy. And this is not what I want now. But you cannot blame yourself. It's not _your_ fault. It's mine. I was stupid and I can only wish someone had knocked some sense into my head. I tried to get myself heard, but I didn't try hard enough. But what could you have done? Ordered me to my room? First of all, it's _Jon_ we're dealing with. Second, Jon's the prince. Third, I was of age when we made the blood oath—it's not like you were my legal guardian making my decisions for me. You cannot blame yourself, Myles. It's not your fault your daughter did something stupid. You're not a wretched father. You're the best one I've ever had."

Myles' eyes were moist. He pulled her roughly to him and kissed her head.

"Blegh. Eleni has some awful concoction in your hair, doesn't she? That woman," he grimaced. Alanna laughed weakly, not used to paternal gestures, but grateful he had changed the subject.

"Yeah," Alanna sighed. "She and Thayet insisted."

"Women," he chuckled again.

"Speaking of women…" Alanna began. Myles raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, what's going on between you and Mistress Cooper?" Myles blushed and looked down at his beverage.

"It's ridiculous. A man of my age…"

"A man of your age?" Alanna urged.

Myles glanced up at her quickly and ducked his head again. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He talked quickly as if he were hoping that the faster he talked, the less would be understood. "It's ridiculous that a man of my age should fall in love. I never married, never thought I would, but Eleni makes my heart race as if I were twenty years old. And it's not as if she's some young, selfish, conniving court beauty, she's…more, she's better. I've never wanted anyone like this before. I just want to be around her, near her, talk to her. Even watching her makes me feel happier than…" he trailed off. "I feel so silly, confiding an old man's romance to his daughter…"

_Who isn't getting the romance any father wants her to have, _Alanna thought bitterly, though not permitting her thoughts to show on her face. "No, I want to hear this. It makes me happy that you are happy. What does she think of you?"

Myles blushed again, much like the schoolboy with a crush on the girl across the room. "I—I…" Alanna smiled at him, knowing that Eleni Cooper was just as besotted with her step-father as he was with her.

"Alanna," Myles said earnestly, looking her in the face, "I want to ask you something. Would—would you be alright with, perhaps, having a step-mother? If I were to ask Mistress Cooper to…to marry me?"

Alanna gazed at him thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought I'd be getting a mother at my age?"

Myles grinned, his eyes twinkling. He took a swig of ale. "Thank you!" He hugged her roughly around the neck, like she was a boy. "I wanted to ask you first…before I said…anything. But now…" he stood up. Alanna tugged him back down into the seat.

"I think you should wait to ask her until you are a little steadier on your feet." Myles chuckled. "Would you like me to walk you back to your room, if only for old times' sake?" she asked hopefully.

Myles' expression sobered. "My dear, there is nothing I would like better than to find a way for you to slip out of here. But I fear that it would hurt you in the long run. If I but could go back in time I would find a way to knock sense into you earlier. My dear, be brave. I will always be here for you." He kissed her forehead tenderly and ambled away, shaking his head. Alanna was left alone on the dais. Myles had found that romantic love she had all but convinced herself didn't exist. It was hard to reason herself through this sham of a marriage to Jon if all her arguments fell flat. Jon's words, so sweet and potent back then, had lost their power and their meaning.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Jon appeared at her side. "Enjoying yourself, my wife?"

Alanna gritted her teeth. "You're going to have to stop calling me that."

"I do not; it's my right."

"And it's my right to make your life a living hell."

"Ah, but it can't be hell if you're there with me," Jon laughed. Alanna narrowed her eyes. Jon was talking in the empty-headed way he used when he was flirting with Delia. Jon shifted his eyes, trying to tell her something that she didn't understand. "Sweetheart—"

"Why are you—?" Alanna then saw, behind Jon, Lord What's-His-Name of That-Fief-Somewhere, who was always hovering over her. The lights were dimming, and she realized that it was nearing sun-down. Realizing she would have to perform in front of this old coot, she smiled at Jon, as sweetly as she could.

"Your Highnesses, now, would it please you to take the floor? It is nearing the time for the last dance of the evening."

Jon nodded at him. "We would be delighted." He held out his hand, palm up, for Alanna to take. Everyone was looking in their direction as the music softly began to play. Alanna recognized the tune—it told the tale of a young maid swept off her feet by a prince in disguise. The two become close friends and then the friendships turns into a passionate love, though the young maid is reluctant at first. It was a favorite love ballad, and Jon's parents had danced to it at their wedding and Jon had wanted this song because of that.

With his hand on her waist and her hand in his, they slowly moved around the room. It was a slow enough song and with no set movements, so she did not have to worry about making as much of a fool of herself. Jon drew her closer and closer as they revolved around and she rested her head on Jon's shoulder. The song lyrics made her want to cry. The words spoke to her—it was close enough to her first relationship with Jon, but it was scarily closer to her relationship with George. The scar on her heart in the shape of his name tugged very unpleasantly and she fought the almost-overwhelming urge to cry. She had lost George forever and there was nothing she could do about it. Jon, almost as if he knew, rubbed her back in comforting circles.

The music came to a close and Jon gently kissed her forehead. She did not look him in the eye, because who wants to look their husband in the eye when they spent their entire wedding song thinking of their former lover? Not Alanna.

Immediately the minstrels struck up a livelier tune and other couples swarmed together, beginning a spirited dance. However, Jon pulled her away from the other dancers and up the steps. Behind them, she heard clapping and roars and wolf-whistles. At the top of the staircase, Jon swiftly caught her up in his arms bridal-style, and the crowd's clamor increased.

But once they had rounded the corner, out of sight, Alanna wiggled and pulled herself out of his grasp.

"I was going to carry you to our chamber," Jon protested.

"I can walk."

Side by side, somewhat awkwardly, they walked to the chamber that had been prepared as the bridal chamber. There, Thayet and a maid met them, and they directed Jon into another room. Alanna did not miss the way Jon's eyes lingered on her friend, and her heart clenched. Not in jealousy, not in anger, but in pain, pure pain, knowing that she had made a mistake and that everyone was going to pay. Thayet undressed Alanna and slipped her into a white silk nightgown. Alanna poked at it, never having worn one before. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Thayet shook her head and put her finger to her lips. Alanna obeyed.

_You may not be allowed to speak, but I will. I have been vexed with you, but I have come to understand why you have done this. _

Alanna regarded her cat, who had made himself scarce after learning the news of her engagement.

_You are a foolish girl, but you mean well. You've ripped out your own heart to try to help another. And that is noble of you, and you've done your duty as a knight. But are you happy? _

_No, I'm not happy, and you know it_, Alanna snapped in her mind. _And I know it. But there's no way I can escape it now. _

Faithful sighed as he dropped his angry glare. He surprised Alanna by rubbing against her leg and purring.

_Well, I'd like you to know, I'm stuck with you until the end, so you'll always have me. _

Alanna, touched by this, bent down and picked up her cat and cuddled him to her. "Thank you," she whispered, burying her face into his silky black fur as a few tears squeezed out.

_That, however, does not mean this sort of treatment—I shall not be used as a handkerchief—Put me down! _

Alanna grinned weakly as she loosened her grip to allow Faithful to leap to the floor.

_Good luck. _

Alanna turned and faced the doorway, knowing that through there Jon was waiting for her. And her heart sank, knowing that she did not want her husband…not now, not ever. But she could not turn and run as Thayet pushed her through the door. She froze in the doorway, thinking of her seventeenth birthday and how long ago it seemed. The first time she had made love, with this man. She could do it again.

"Alanna?"

"Jon. I'm—I'm scared." Alanna realized that these were the words she had spoken then, that first time, but _then_ she was nervous _and_ excited, tingling with desire for Jon. Now, there was nothing.

Jon's voice echoed the sentiment of that time too. "Me too. But at least we can be scared together."

He held out his hand and pulled her into him. Her hands hit his chest and he knotted his fingers through her hair and brought her lips to his. She allowed him to kiss her, because she could not find the strength to push him away. His tongue found its way into her mouth and she yielded as his hands began to explore her body. But as he began to raise the hem of her nightgown, she pulled away.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"No—no, we can't."

"We can't? Alanna, we're husband and wife. It's our wedding night!" Jon's voice was frustrated and grumpy. His eyes snapped angrily at her.

"I…mean, yes I know…that. But I…it's…it's my time of the month," she lied. Jon sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking genuinely sorry.

"I, um, didn't know. I didn't mean to seem like I was forcing you, but I just didn't know—"

"I didn't have time to tell anyone. It's not like I wanted that to be publicly announced. There are things about my personal life I like to keep to myself," she said lamely.

"I understand." Jon's voice was heavy and seemed to come from a great distance, like he was on the other side of a canyon and there was no way to bridge the gap. "Alanna…I am sorry. For putting you through this. It's taking a toll on you, and…well, I know that you don't feel that way for me. And I don't …feel that way either. But I just want you to know that I do love you."

"In our kind of love," Alanna said bitterly.

"Yes. That, our kind of love. We will get through this. You'll see. Everything will be right."

"Sure."

"Well, I guess, we'd better go to bed, then."

Carefully, they tucked themselves under covers that hadn't been expected to be used this way and curled up together, Jon's arm tucked around Alanna's waist. She allowed him to hold her, wishing with all her might it was another. Hot tears slowly trailed down her face, a contradiction to the cool of the white feather pillow. She drifted off slowly, praying to wake up from this dream.

The past day didn't feel real, she mused. It felt like a scene from another girl's life. It was like the way the story wasn't supposed to end. Alanna reckoned that she hadn't been miserable all day, but she hadn't been joyous either. And what made that worse was being forced to pretend all her dreams were coming true. She felt nothing at all, lying here in the royal bedroom of the king-to-be. She was so detached from everything. Nothing in her life felt real anymore—nothing felt like her life.

She had just gotten married to the prince of the realm and had the wedding of the century. She was going to become queen shortly. It was like the fairy-tale come true, like that song about the maid and her prince. Did that mean that tomorrow would bring her happily-ever-after? Or did it start now?

It certainly didn't feel like a happily-ever-after.


	8. Queen Alanna

**Author's Note: I suppose I should inform you that I do not write smut. So if that's what you're looking for, then go find a new fic. Mine is rated "M" because there is frank discussion of the topic and insinuation, but no explicitness. **

**Now that _that's _out of the way, please enjoy Chapter 8, in which Alanna and Jon are made rulers of Tortall, the land that Tamora Pierce created out of the brilliancy of her mind. **

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**Chapter 8: Queen Alanna **

**September 439 H.E. **

Because Alanna lied and said that she was experiencing the women's cycles, they did not lie together. They slept together, literally, curled up in bed, just talking. She felt better, just talking to Jon, because she didn't have to force emotions that she didn't feel. She could talk to him, just as she always did, when they were best friends without a care in the world. She noticed how Jon seemed to lean on her, like she was a crutch keeping him upright. She was glad that she could be there for him this way, but underneath it all, there still was that forged bond of matrimony between them. However, when they just sprawled out across the bed together or rode horseback together, she pretended it was just them, just Jon and Alanna, just friends. And that was nice. But their "honeymoon" drew to a close and they had to return to the public eye of the court.

And the coronation was looming closer.

The only thing, besides her friendship with Jon, that is keeping her from running away this time, with more preparations and fittings and lectures she had to endure, was the mantra she took to repeating to herself: It's the right thing for Tortall. It's the right thing for Tortall. She was sacrificing herself for the good of the people, a good monarch did that. It's for Tortall. Faithful teased her about it, saying that she sounded like a loony muttering under her breath. But she kept saying it over and over, whenever a lord approached her or Roger taunted her or Jon kissed her or Thayet slyly asked her how her evenings were or Gary and Raoul tried to make her cross swords with Alex or anything else that got under her skin. It was surprising how many things got under her skin these days.

Domestic bliss was not what she considered her marriage to Jon, but at this point, she had accepted it. She was the wife of the soon-to-be-king, but to ease her mind, she had redefined the term "wife" in her head. Now, it was more of a lifelong friend and confidante…who slept in the same bed. At least no one had tried to limit her as a knight. She reveled in her early-morning exercises and her noon rides on Moonlight and her early afternoon jousting practice and her late afternoon archery practice and her evening exercises. The physical work reminded her that in some small fraction she controlled herself. She set this rigorous schedule and she kept to it. It also was the kind of thing where you didn't have to think about anything, just concentrate on the muscles and patterns and movement.

The best consolation, however, was her plan to leave about a month after the coronation. Jon had promised that she'd still be able to roam. Alanna couldn't leave during the month between the wedding and the coronation. If she could, the moment they set the crown on her head, she'd be gone (or before then). But she knew that it was her duty to at least stay for a little while—that little while she decided was a month. But once that month was up, Alanna was going to gather Coram and Faithful and Moonlight and Buri and leave. Buri had cabin fever almost the same way Alanna did, and the two talked endlessly of nothing else but where they would like to go. Alanna had a feeling that Jon would insist on her having more guards, but as long as she was out of Corus, she didn't care.

All that left was the coronation itself. As much preparation had gone into the marriage ceremony, even more went into the coronation. Everything had to be perfect at the crowning the most unusual pair of monarchs in the history of Tortall. Invitations to all Tortallan nobility and foreign dignitaries had been sent out. New outfits had been ordered and fitted and sewn. Alanna's head was measured for her crown. Coronation practices were held. Alanna could not understand why she had to practice walking to the thrones, bowing before the Priestess of the Temple of the Mother, and having a golden, heavy crown placed on her head. They practiced with crude, wooden ones.

And now, Alanna stood behind the curtain—for the third time—waiting. She hated waiting, but had accepted it as part of her job by now. Only this time Jon was with her, also waiting to be called. He was not on the other side of the curtain; at least she had him. And he was worse than she. He was pacing back and forth, face pale. Up until this moment, Jon had been cool and confident and eager to become king. But now, he looked like he was trying very hard not to throw up. Alanna, too, was fighting nausea.

"Alanna..." Jon whispered, clutching her shoulder.

"Don't you dare be sick on me. Thayet will kill you," Alanna warned.

"I won't," he grinned weakly. Alanna adjusted herself so that she could slide him into a nearby chair. There were no other chairs but a low stool, which she drew over for herself. As Jon slumped in the chair, she softly ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and she watched him relax under her touch. His jaw unclenched and the vein in his temple eased. He looked so like a lost, young child. She looked at him and all her anger and frustration and grudging feelings at him washed away.

"Jon," she whispered, "You will be a great king."

His eyes flew open and he gazed at her.

"Really? You think so?" he asked, his voice suspiciously sharp.

"Yes," she said. "I wouldn't say so if I didn't think so. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't think so."

"That's why you married me? Because I would be a great king?"

Alanna blushed, but did not back away from his gaze. They might as well be honest with each other now. "That's not the only reason. Jon, I know that we've said that we have our own special kind of love, but it's so hard to remember that. It's not the picturesque idea you painted when you proposed the second time. It's a lot harder than I thought. Most of the time I want to hit you for talking me into this. I told you we'd make a mess of things and I was right. But," she paused, seeing Jon's eyebrows crease. "We are friends. And you were—and still are—hurting over your parents. What kind of friend just pats you on the shoulder and tells you to get over it? I did whatever I could to stop the bleeding—it ended up with me agreeing to marry you. I didn't agree totally on selfless terms, but my main reason for it was for you. You are a good person, Jon. You truly care about your subjects, and not just the nobles. 'Johnny' didn't just learn gambling down in the Dancing Dove, you learned people. You have the Bazhir and you have your Gift. You have diplomatic skills that I will never possess and you are a knight. I think you will become one of the greatest kings Tortall has ever seen."

"Alanna—"

"I, on the other hand, will go down as the first female knight-queen. Chances are I will be written out of history books. I don't care. I swore an oath of loyalty to you when I was knighted and I'm keeping it now. I just want you to know that there will times when I will be evil incarnate because I'm telling you right now that I am going to hate being queen."

"Alanna—"

"Jon. There will be times that I am going to hate you and you're going to hate me. And I've come to accept that. But I'm afraid that there will be a point where we won't be able to get over it. We'll just hate each other and then who knows what will happen? But I'm promising you right now that I'm going to try…really hard…and with the Great Merciful Goddess as my witness, I'm going to try not to hate you."

He stared at her, red slowing filling his face. "You're going to hate _me_? What the hell have I ever done to you that I deserve to be hated? You married me, you had a choice—you weren't forced to!"

"Jon—"

"No, you listen, Alanna! This isn't funny! You can't say these things to me now—this is not the time or the place! I need you behind me—you owe me that—you are bound to agree with me one hundred percent!"

"No, I agreed to honor you. That doesn't mean I'm your personal slave!"

"Alanna!" he roared, sparks flying into his eyes. His pallor disappeared and a fervid emotion appeared across his features. He leapt from the chair and paced away from her, and then paced back, and seized her arms. He opened his mouth to launch into what Alanna was sure would be a terrific tirade, but stopped when he looked at her expression. She was smirking.

"Got you," she smiled.

"What?"

"Pulled you out of your sissiness. You've wanted this for too long to be scared of it now."

"You—you provoked me on purpose?" Jon couldn't believe it.

Alanna grinned sneakily. "What else would have pulled you out of the pet you'd worked yourself into? Myles always said a good dose of anger did a world of good."

"You little—" Alanna just laughed, until Jon had no choice but to throw back his head too. "So none of that was true?" he asked.

"I didn't say that," Alanna said, completely serious now. "It's all true, but I wouldn't have brought it up that way—I just used a little bit of exaggeration."

"You mean—"

"Jon, you can be an arrogant toe-rag, but a healthy dose of confidence is needed, especially for this. And since the Ordeal, you haven't been the same," Alanna said gently.

Jon looked away. Like the Ordeal of Knighthood, the Ordeal of the Crown could not be spoken about to anyone once delivered from the Chamber of the Ordeal. Jon had undergone that Ordeal two days before, and had emerged, silent and triumphant and even more ground-up than he had been for his first Ordeal. Alanna had walked him back to their chamber, and soothed him as best she could. It was hard to comfort someone when wrapped in one's own selfish grief, but Alanna had managed to get him to sleep, only to wake up with him clutching her as hard as he could, shaking. She had woken him up, and a strange puzzling expression had crossed his face when he had recognized her. It was almost like disappointment, Alanna had thought. And since then, his pensive mood had not lifted…until now.

She reached up and stroked his hair. "Jon, I'm just trying to help. I'm not a courtesan, I don't know how to play head games or how to fix everything. I'm being honest as I can—and trying to be the best for you I can be."

Jon softened as he looked at her. "I know, Alanna, I know. It's just—"

"The Ordeal is supposed to make you remember that there is a lot of pressure being a ruler, and that it's not always good to be the king, and to make you realize being a king you have to be humble, and that you're not perfect, and you don't know everything. And it's done that to you. But now, you need to keep your chin up and prove that you can do this."

Jon sighed, "You're right about what the Chamber is supposed to do, but there was more to it than that—it…it made me relive all the mistakes that I've made, that have affected others' lives, good and bad…and…" Jon stopped, unable by his oath to reveal what exactly the Chamber had shown him.

"Okay. Well, just remember them. Change what happened if you can. Live through what you can't undo," Alanna tried to cheerfully shrug it off, though in the back of her mind she was wondering what the Chamber had shown regarding his decision to marry her.

Jon nodded but was spared saying anything by the blast of trumpet, signaling his time to descend. Quickly, he pulled her to him and hugged her hard; Alanna melted into his embrace. She enjoyed this, partly because he didn't try to kiss her—just hugged her as an equal. "Thank you," he whispered as he disappeared through the curtain.

The second blast of the trumpet signaled Alanna's turn to descend the Grand Stairs to the Throne Room. There, before the thrones, Jon stood before a ring of priests, all representing different gods. The Mithran priest, in his orange robe, held a cushion with Jon's ornate gold crown, while the Priestess of the Goddess held Alanna's. Alanna reached the steps and stood next to Jon. A third blast of music, and Jon and Alanna turned and knelt together. Prayers and incantations and blessings were spoken, beseeching the gods above to bless the reign of Jonathan, to guarantee he would be a wise and fair ruler, to ask that he would have many children (Alanna tried not to grimace), to pray for peace between realms and peoples, etc, etc, etc. Finally, the Mithran priest beckoned Jon to stand.

"By the blessing of the Sun God, Mithros, Lord of the Immortal Realms and son of Father Universe, Jonathan of Conté, son of the beloved King Roald and his Queen Lianne of Conté, Prince-Heir, and Knight of the Realm of Tortall, shall be crowned King of Tortall. May he serve you, great Mithros, and this kingdom and its people humbly and well."

"So mote it be," Jon's booming, strong voice echoed as, in a great show, gold light swirled around Jonathan as the crown was set on his black hair. The ring of the King was slid onto his finger and a burst of Jon's Gift joined the gold.

As the applause died down, Alanna's stomach turned over as the Mithran priest nodded at her. Shakily, she stood. The First Daughter stepped forward and cleared her throat and prayed for Alanna—for Alanna to be an example of womanhood, to have strength in bearing children, to obey her king and husband, to be brave and cool in the face of all obstacles, and to have patience when others suffered trials (Alanna hoped this last one would deliver).

"By the blessing of the Great Merciful Mother, Queen of the Immortal Realms and daughter of Mother Flame, Alanna of Conté, daughter of the deceased Lord Alan of Trebond, sister of Lord Thom of Trebond—Master of Mithran Light, adopted daughter and heir of Myles of Olau, and wife of Jonathan of Conté—in your name, I crown her Queen of Tortall. May she serve the people and kingdom and you, Great Mother, humbly and well."

Alanna looked up and saw, not the First Daughter, but the Goddess herself. Alanna's eyes widened at her benefactress.

"And so, my daughter, we meet again."

Alanna's eyes popped at that great, terrible, beautiful voice. She glanced left and right and realized that time was frozen. No one else was moving.

"My Mother—"

The Goddess held up one fair, perfect hand. "Now is my time to speak, my daughter. You have been my Chosen since the day you were born. When you lost your human mother, I took pity on the purple-eyed, copper-haired, Gifted girl—I saw your greatness from the first moment you drew breath. And I carefully watched you as you grew, and marveled in your incredible determination. I revealed myself to you and sent you the constellation Ailuro to you, to be your guide and companion. And you have come far from our first meeting under the tree. A mother could not have been prouder of you than I—watching as you overcame all obstacles and did so much more than I could have dreamed! You are the first female Knight in more than two centuries and appointed King's Champion—though the Council tries to thwart you by disregarding your title—and now, as queen, you have a legion of changes you are going to command. And slowly, you began to conquer your fears. First of the Ordeal, which you have passed, then of the Duke Roger" –Here the Goddess frowned, as if she disliked the thought that Roger was twice-living— "But your fear of love…my daughter, you have not overcome this."

"Mother, I have had three…affairs," Alanna blushed, "and am now a married woman—"

"Yes, and your love of the prince and the thief and the Shang Dragon were a step in the direction of conquering your fear of love. But, my dear, you did not marry the prince because of love. You feel no love for Jonathan, other than that of friendship—a strong love indeed, but not the love you are frightened of. And indeed, oftentimes, your love for your friend turns bitter and grudge-like, for you are unhappy in this 'love'. You have only aided your phobia by disregarding real love, true love in the face. For this I am disappointed in you, my daughter."

"My mother, I did not mean to disappoint you," Alanna hung her head. The Mother lifted Alanna's chin—her touch was chill and burning, rough and smooth, soothing and irritating.

"You have a noble heart, and had most of the right intentions, Alanna, but they will not lead to your happiness. You will do well as Queen of Tortall, but I fear that you yourself will prove prophetess of the result of your marriage."

"Prophetess? I do not understand."

"Soon you will see, my daughter. I will be always watching over you, my beloved. Good luck." With a kiss on Alanna's forehead, the Goddess departed the Priestess' body and life sprang around Alanna again, as the suspension of time was released. As if nothing had happened, the First Daughter looked at Alanna, waiting for her answer.

More in response to her patroness' visit that her vow, Alanna whispered, "So mote it be." Her heart sank. "So mote it be," she muttered again, under her breath as the crown was placed on her head. The gold crown was heavy, but not as heavy as her heart. The Goddess' visit frightened her, and she clutched her ember, hidden under her dress as the golden magic of the Priestess and Alanna's own violet Gift swirled through the Hall.

Jon took Alanna's hand as music swelled around them and they walked up the five steps to the dais, and together sat on the throne. Jon squeezed her hand, but Alanna only numbly realized it was happening. The Goddess' accusations of her running from love hurt like she had been run through with a sword.

All the priests extended their hands over the couple and invoked one more blessing on them. Then, the herald stepped forward.

"May I present Their Majesties, Jonathan and Alanna, King and Queen of the Realm of Tortall!"

The audience, old and young, clapped, awed by the burst of sapphire and violet Gift that flooded them—over and under and around and through them, inspiring hope and belief that tomorrow would be a better day. At least, that's what it was supposed to do.

And maybe it did, but Queen Alanna did not feel any of that hope.

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**This is not my favorite chapter, but what do you think of it? Alanna's little stunt pissed me off, but I couldn't stop her :/ REVIEW! **


	9. I Lost You

**Author's Note: I really didn't like the last chapter, so I wrote this one. Oh, and the answer to Alanna's self prophesy the Goddess referred to…think about the title of this fic. **

**Tamora Pierce wrote it. I fan-fictioned it. **

**

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Chapter 9: I Lost You **

"Ah, the lady of the hour." Alanna turned to the voice. Liam Ironarm stood there, smiling at her. "I believe thanks are in order."

"Thanks?" she asked, puzzled.

"I told you you'd thank me when you were queen. And here you are, Lion Queen." Liam looked tan and fit as always, Alanna observed.

"Thanks," she said, not really meaning it. She'd been queen for a few hours and it hadn't been all that wonderful. She'd mostly moped up here on the dais, while Jon ate and drank and talked with all the foreign diplomats.

"You don't sound happy."

Alanna shrugged. She had no interest in talking about her problems with the Shang Dragon. It wasn't worth it, rehashing her wounds, and they were in public.

"I do have a question for you—because you're queen, are you no longer King's Champion?"

"What?" Alanna hadn't even remembered that, but like a tinder striking flint, a fire started in her brain. There had been no mention of her individual achievements, rights, titles—that she too was a Knight of the Realm of Tortall wasn't even mentioned. And her appointment as Jon's Champion certainly hadn't been said. _And _now that she thought about it, the only titles mentioned only talked of her relationships with other men—her birth and adopted fathers, her brother, her husband. She'd been looking for an excuse, any excuse, to lit into Jon. And here it was.

"I don't like the look you're got on your face, Lioness. Listen, forget I brought it up—" Liam began, palms up as Alanna snarled. She whipped around, eyeing the crowd for her husband. "Alanna, look, you've been crowned for a little bit—isn't it a little late to dig into him for that?" Liam tried reasoning, but it was not good enough to persuade her. She moved away from him. This was the last straw—Jon had promised her over and over that she would be as important as he to the throne, that she was bringing him glory and honor and they would shake things up. How was she supposed to shake things up, make a difference, give some semblance of reality to the sham she was living if they didn't even own to her proper title?

However, she could not rip into Jon as she would like, because he was dancing with a foreign dignitary, some beautiful girl from the Copper Isles—closer look revealed to Alanna that it was Princess Josiane, daughter of the Rittevon house.

"Easy, Lioness," Liam whispered. "You'll get your chance—look, your friends want to celebrate for you. This is your day. Give Jon an opportunity to enjoy this coronation."

Alanna obliged, but barely. She managed to dance with Gary and Raoul and Myles, chat with Thom and Thayet, argue with Roger and Faithful, and congratulate Eleni on her beautiful new wedding ring. All without exploding. However, she whirled on Jon the moment that they had an opportunity. Jon must have seen this coming, must have noticed her angry prowling, must have been warned what she was angry about, because he immediately went into defense mode.

"Alanna, I didn't know they were going to say that. I'll have it fixed. Don't worry–"

"Fixed? How do you _fix _something like that? I am _not _Lady Alanna of Conte _or_ Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau. I am Alanna of Conte and Olau, King's Champion. Because the way they proclaimed it, _I _am not queen. Someone else is." She was so angry, so indignant. Jon didn't see. The Councilors had played him for a fool. They were finding ways to peg her in and force her to be how they wanted her to be. And Jon was letting them.

"It's not that important, Alanna. It's just the way things have always been done. It's hard to change."

"Jon, this is the reason you married me. To make history, to make changes."

"People are watching," he said through a tip-lipped forced smile. "Please just smile and pretend to be pleasant for everyone's benefit."

"No."

"Alanna—" Jon's tone turned threatening.

"It'll be a relief when I leave in a month," she growled, turning on her heel.

"Alanna, you're not leaving in a month," Jon said tiredly. "You have to stay right here. As queen, you're needed to be in Corus most of the year, unless we are on progress or at war. You can't just go off roaming on quests anymore."

"Who decided that?" The disappointment was so bitter going down Alanna had to fight to not throw up.

"What did you expect?" Jon asked crossly.

"What you promised me!"

"I never promised you that."

"Yes, you did. The second time you proposed—after it was decided I would be your Champion."

"That was if you were only Champion, that didn't go with queen."

"But I am queen _and _Champion, aren't I? Not that anyone gathered would be aware," she snarled.

Jon's face set, as he repressed his anger.

"I need to use the privy," she growled, gathering the material of her dress and marching away, leaving Jon to deal. She headed down one hallway to another, trying to find the furthest privy from the ballroom. She was muttering madly under her breath, cursing Jon, the Council, and herself.

"Angry, love?"

Alanna whirled, startled out of her mad ranting. George Cooper in fine breeches and shirt stood before her. She had seen him in the congregation at the coronation and had seen the distress in his eyes—the depression and the hurt and the longing that _she_ had caused—and had felt the so strongly the realization of her wrong decision and the irreversibility of it.

"You could say that," she snapped. Without preamble or invitation, everything poured out of her. It felt almost as if she was vomiting words—words and feelings and bottled-up emotions. She told him of her anger and frustration and loneliness and helplessness, of her problems with Jon, Thayet, the Council, Thom, Roger, Faithful, Myles, everyone else. She spoke of how it had gotten to the point where she couldn't keep up with herself, so how could it be possible for her to try to keep up with everyone? Even just everyone she loved, never mind those she loathed! She told him of all the fittings, the practices, the restrictions, the houndings, the hidings, the lectures, the diets. The only thing she didn't tell him was the Goddess' visit and her secret longing for him.

"One small lass like yourself shouldn't be bottling all that up, there," George remarked when she was spent, shaking his head back and forth.

Alanna sighed and sunk to the ground. "You were wrong, I guess."

"I was?" the tall man asked, as he sat next to her.

"You said I'd make them dance to my own tune. Sure feels like I'm dancing to their tune—all of their tunes. I don't even know what my tune sounds like anymore."

George shucked her under the chin. "Sure you do. It may be lost under all those complicated melodies they're trying to make you jig to, but you've still got your beat. Your beat is simple, like a drum. You make the rhythm as fast and as slow as you like, and once you learn how to beat the drum right, they'll have to follow your tempo."

Alanna smiled. "You always know how to say the right things."

"I try," George said. His gaze never wavered from her face, and she found it difficult to decide whether she wanted to look away or hold his gaze. She found herself blinking a lot in an effort to do both.

"I suppose I should be over this."

"Over what?" His voice lowered softly and he leaned towards her. She would not look at him.

"You know, this dealing thing. I mean, I had to be someone I wasn't for years as Alan, now I'm just going to have to do it differently."

George shifted back—clearly he thought she was taking a different direction with this conversation.

"I'll just have to learn to put up with it as qu—" she stopped and stood. She still couldn't think of herself as queen. It was too…surreal, unrealistic…horrible.

"Put up with?" George asked, standing too.

"As qu—" she still couldn't say it. She forced her vocal chords and mouth to form the words. "As…queen." She looked up at George and tried to smile, unaware of how miserable and desperately unhappy and determined she looked. Their eyes met, violet and hazel, and Alanna felt lost in the depths of the feelings she saw in George's eyes. There was friendship—strong and loyal friendship—and pity and helplessness and love—a love so powerful it made it hard for her to breathe. It was a love that spoke of desire and heat and warmth and…_forever_. But there was also desperation and loss and hurt, caused by this love.

Before she could think, George's hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. His lips met hers and she _felt_ the desperation. But she also felt the love and desire she had seen there, and felt it reciprocated in herself. A wave, a sweet, bitter, hot, cold thunder stormed through her body, wrapping her up in dizziness as George wrapped her tightly in his arms, as close to him as possible. Her heart started humming and she could feel his heart through his chest. She melted into him, holding nothing back. Into the kiss, she poured all her hurt and sorrow and frustration. She tried to tell him that she was sorry and ask for forgiveness for what she had done. She tried to convey to him the love she felt in her heart, the kind of love she hungered for—the kind of the love that wasn't hers and Jon's, but hers and George's…

But she found herself pushed away, and felt as if a vital part of her was ripped away and all that was left was cold…George gripped her face in between his rough calloused hands.

"Why? Why him, Alanna? _Why?_" His voice was rough and raw. His eyes searched hers, seeking the answer that she couldn't him.

Because Alanna had no answer. There was no rhyme or reason to satisfy George, to explain her folly. There was no way he would understand the twisted logic she had constructed.

"Because…I had to."

"Why?" He let go of her face gently.

Why? Why? Why? She could not find a real answer, all of Jon's arguments sounded flat in her head. Why?

George backed away slowly. "I lost you. Somehow, someway I lost you."

He walked away down the corridor as Alanna slid to the floor, the tears she had been fighting spilling over.

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**Since Alanna gave him up, I call dibs on George ;) **


	10. Expectations

**Author's Note: You know what's tough? Making sure that all the characters are there…and themselves. Props to Tamora Pierce for sticking with them. **

**This chapter, this whole fic is straying far from my original idea. Hence why it has taken so long to update. **

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**Chapter 10: Expectations **

**December 439 H.E. **

"She did _what_?"

"Lady Patrice of Fenrigh is her sister-in-law. And _she _told my husband's niece, who told _me_."

"No!"

"I cannot believe it!"

Alanna rolled her eyes as the ladies about her gossiped. To her right, Thayet kicked her gently as she did when Alanna was too blatant about her disapproval. However, Delia of Eldorne noticed the red-head's expression and smirked.

"Our petty female chatter below you, Your Majesty? Perhaps some male company would suit you better?"

"Lady Delia, I'll have none of your tongue," Alanna snapped. Delia took great delight in making witty remarks alluding to the rumor that Alanna was male.

"I apologize, my Queen," Delia pretended docility, "I hope that they have not offended you so much you wish to duel me."

Buri, seated to Thayet's right, stood up. "Lady Delia, the queen said stop. That does not mean you are allowed to continue your tirade. We've all heard your claim to want to duel the queen acting as Champion."

Delia frowned and bowed her head over her embroidery. Alanna shook her head as the rest of the ladies fell silently and hurriedly to work. Slowly, conversation returned little by little. Delia remained silent. Since Alanna's installation as queen, Delia of Eldorne had slowly begun making more and more jests—rude—but she had never been this frank. Alanna sighed; she was getting a headache from staring at the tiny stitches.

Like an answer to her prayer, Jon strolled in the room. "My ladies!" he cried, smiling at the circle of ladies-in-waiting. All of them rose and curtseyed to the king, who gave a little bow back to them before making a bee-line for Alanna.

"My love," he said, leaning over to kiss her. She smiled at him. He held out a thick cloak for her, matching to the one he wore over his shoulders. "Come for a walk with me?" Alanna followed him outside, leaving the women to their gossip and sewing. She tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as they wandered out to the palace gardens now covered with the first frost of winter. Yawning, she sat down on a cold bench and leaned back. She closed her eyes.

"Sleepy?" Jon teased.

"Exhausted. I hate tea time. You do have impeccable timing." She opened one eye to look at him, but then shut it, preferring the dark.

"It's only taken three months to perfect."

_Three months—Mithros, that's how long we've been married_, Alanna realized. One month since the coronation. A month ago, Alanna looked at her future with a bleak eye. The Goddess' warning and her fury over detail had made her reign as queen look very unhappy, but so far, she had survived. She and Jon were getting along wonderfully—well, mostly.

After her "cycle" had ended, she and Jon had gone to bed together as husband and wife. And it was supremely awkward. They were much too polite towards each other, avoiding the thought that was there as plain as day—there was no real desire for each other. They talked afterward, and frankly. And for what felt like the hundredth time to Alanna, they professed that they do not love each other. Yet, this time, the awareness that they share no love seemed to have healed the rift more than increased it.

Alanna found herself so confused as to the turmoil of her life. From one moment, she was crying with exasperation at her own stupidity and then she found it to be decent. She didn't delude herself that this wasn't exactly what she wanted—but she can live with it. The fickleness—so unlike her—scared her, but she kept that fear hidden, for now. She knew it would resurface again. Instead, she focused on her alliance and friendship with Jon.

Which was good, because there was plenty else to cause troubles for them individually and together. Alanna took to heart what George had said about her drum-beat, and had refused to wear dresses except at court functions where she was to act solely in the role of queen (tea-time was the only daily one where she wore a gown). She ordered many pairs of fine breeches and hose, and many new tunics and doublets—fit for the King's Champion, and Jon agreed. The Council had had a fit over this—and the nagging quadrupled.

She now heard lectures on the need to be queenlier and to follow good Queen Lianne's example. The lack of gowns and skirts on her seemed enough to give them all internal organ failure, what with how they launched into her about her wardrobe. They also urged her to give up her weaponry practices—which had become daily and extensive—though they could not argue against her logic that as Champion, she must be ready to defend the King's law.

But the real root, the real reason the Councilors hounded her, the real message behind all the lectures was: make babies now. Alanna had yet to take off her anti-pregnancy charm—though she and Jon did not lie together often. Jon had yet to broach the subject with her, though she knew he wanted to.

"Three months, Alanna."

"Three months…" she repeated, not really listening to him.

"Three months is a long time."

"Mhmmm…" she agreed, letting her head droop back.

"Three months is long enough to wait. Soon, people will be expecting something."

"What sort of expecting?" Alanna asked vaguely.

"_You _expecting."

Alanna sat up a little straighter, but did not open her eyes. If she didn't see his lips form those words, maybe it wouldn't happen.

"Alanna…"

"Jonathan." She kept her eyes closed. "You promised we wouldn't try to have children until after a year."

She heard him sigh as he dropped down on the bench next to her.

"I know."

Silence descended on the royal couple. Alanna could feel it, almost as if it were sitting heavily on her stomach. Jonathan wanted something. Finally, she opened her eyes. Jon's gaze was locked on her throat, where, on a fine gold chain, hung her ember-stone and her anti-pregnancy charm. She clutched it, self-consciously and his eyes met hers. The color hadn't changed in his eyes; they were still the same beautiful sapphire she knew. But the depth of them was different. Becoming Voice of the Tribes had made them deep, but becoming king had made the well in his eyes wider. He was trying to take everything in at once, but despite his aptitude and determination, the pressures of royalty were starting to get to him.

"Alanna…" his tone was begging.

She rolled her eyes, trying to prevent this conversation. "You say my name so often, you'd think I'd forgotten it."

Now he rolled his eyes at her.

She sighed, knowing she couldn't fight the inevitable. "What do you want?"

"I know we said we would wait a year for children, but we… I don't think we can."

"Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding sharp.

"We need something. To show the people progress. They need a sign."

"You think that my having a baby is going to make people stop believing that your reign is cursed?"

"It's worth a shot."

"Whose idea was it?" Alanna asked, expecting to hear one of the names of the cross bothersome windbags that cornered her weekly.

"Mine, actually."

She just stared at him. Of course it was his idea.

"It's not like _that_," Jon protested. "It's not something I've discussed with anyone! It's not so I could get you into bed! I just thought that maybe, if we had a son, sooner rather than later…"

"People would see that you're not cursed, because, 'oh, look at how quickly his wife had a healthy baby, and look, there's already an heir. How could he possibly be cursed?' I suppose it does make a revolution harder if there's two royal males to dispose of," Alanna said coolly.

"Because then, it'd be done, and you wouldn't have to worry about it later!" Jon exclaimed. Alanna watched her best friend and husband. He'd taken into consideration her opinion. It was touching. "I mean, yes, those other things are true, and I did think of them. But it does matter to me if you're okay with it."

Gently, Alanna took his hand. Carefully, she caressed his hand, tracing her fingers over the lines of his knuckles and the creases where his fingers bent. Jon stayed quiet, leaning his head on her shoulder. She just sat there, thinking. Once or twice, a courtier or servant wandered by, and quickly ran away from the intimate scene. Alanna knew that being caught like this would do wonders for the myth that they were hopelessly in love with each other.

However, she pulled her thoughts away from the shows they had laughingly put on, of Jon's calling her silly nicknames, of how they'd stroll hand-in-hand, disgustingly romantic, through the corridors until they'd turn a corner and fall over each other giggling. Now, as she held her husband's hand, she thought of a child, a baby. Could she bring another being into this world? She felt that she could be brave enough, but she wasn't sure if she were the right person for the job. How would she be as a mother? Would she, who had almost no feminine bones in her body, raise a child the right way? Would her child hate her? Would her child be miserable? Would she be the worst mother ever?

Probably.

_Well, look at me_, she thought. _I turned out all right_. Even with Mother dead and Father just as gone and Thom being Thom, she hadn't turned out awful. But then, she'd found a home in the palace, and a make-shift family. She'd found a father in Myles, a mother in Eleni, sisters in Thayet and Buri, brothers in Jon, Raoul, Gary (_and_ George, she thought stubbornly). She hadn't done so bad.

The thought of her mother dying in child labor caught her breath for a moment. Suppose she, too, was not strong enough to survive labor? No, she thought. She was stronger than that. Her body was in the best shape of her life, thanks to her daily rigorous exercises. That would be the one way she could not fail. She hoped.

She owed Jonathan. She had been so needy throughout their entire engagement. The least she could do was be selfless this one time.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" asked Jon, who had fallen into a doze on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath, as if there would be some form of gaseous courage mixed among the air she was inhaling. "Okay, we can try for a baby."

She heard Jon's great gasp, but didn't look at him. She still held his hand in her own, and he grasped hers tightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Is this what you want?"

"No," she said shortly. "But it isn't about what I want anymore."

"Sweetheart, you have to be ready." Jon's voice was gentle.

Alanna raised her eyes. "I'll never be ready, not the way you'll need me to be. I think being a knight, or even being a queen is easier than being a mother. I don't know how to do those things. I know how to be a knight and I know I can learn to be a queen. But a ma?"

"You'll be wonderful. And I've heard it comes naturally."

"That's what is so tricky. No matter what I do, it'll happen. I'll get as big as a house and out pops the baby. I can't control it. It's the first thing I've done to myself that I can't control. And it terrifies me."

She really tried not to cry, but somehow two fat tears leaked through. Jon wiped them away with his free hand.

"I'll be here for you. Always."

"I know," she said. He brushed the hair away from her face, his hand trailing from her temple to her jaw, and then the side of her neck, just below her ear. "Don't go any lower," she whispered.

"What?" came his startled reply.

"You were going for the anti-pregnancy charm. I know you, sire," she said teasingly, breaking the moment.

Jon withdrew his hands and held them in the air. "I have no idea what you are talking about. _I_ was going for your breasts," he teased.

She glared at him. "Just because I agreed, does not mean you can lug me up the stairs and have me now."

"We should do it before you change your mind," he argued.

"No." She shook her head. She didn't want to now.

"Please?" Jon was laughing, so she knew he wasn't serious. He was just as reluctant to go through the awkward phases of love-making with her, as she was with him. "I'm going to bother you until you say yes."

She sighed. He was like a dog with a bone in his jaw. Now that she'd promised to be open to children, he'd never let it go.

"Tonight, then."

"You mean it?"

She elbowed him hard so that he almost fell off the bench. Grinning, she jumped up and ran away, hiking up the skirts on the plain brown gown she wore.

"That's no way for a queen to behave," called a miserly old lord that they almost ran over. Alanna gave no heed as Jon gave chase, laughing. With his longer legs, he soon caught her up. He snatched her off her feet and swung her about in a circle, spraying snow everywhere. Finally, after much protestation, he set her down. Dizzily, she stumbled back into his arms to hold her up. With her arms about his waist, and his arms clasped around her back, the couple stood laughing and panting.

"You…" started Jon, but was forced to stop because he hadn't caught his breath.

"What?" Alanna asked teasingly, looking up at him.

When their eyes met, Alanna felt something go through her. Her breath caught in her throat as Jon's eyes locked on hers. She was suddenly so aware of his body against hers, the way their laughter moved through both of them in a similar rhythm. She could feel his heart pounding through his clothing. She watched, as if time were frozen, as Jon gulped. Slowly, a tingling began in the pit of her stomach and traveled lower.

Before she could fathom what this was, Jon dropped his head and their lips met. Alanna's eyes drooped closed of their own accord and she found herself clutching him closer, wanting more…something she was not used to wanting. For the first time in a long time, she desired physical nearness to Jon…

She pulled away at that thought, her mind still reeling. Merciful Goddess! _What had just happened? _They stared at each other, Alanna considering kissing Jon again.

"Well…" said Jon, running his hands through his hair.

"Well," agreed Alanna.

"Shall we…?" Jon asked, eyes mischievous. Alanna was sore tempted—Goddess knew her body suddenly had regained desire for her husband-but it confounded her. For months, she had had no appetite for him. Where had this sudden change come from? Talking about having a baby together didn't create desire. Alanna knew she wouldn't have tried childbearing if she didn't have to. Finally, she shook her head 'no.' Jon gave her his best puppy-eyes, but she still refused. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, flush together. Alanna felt the new, yet old, bewildering desire build in her, and she probably would have allowed him to carry her up the stairs and into their bed if Gary hadn't chased down Jon.

Alanna walked away from the men and headed towards the stable. She wanted to groom Moonlight and get her head on straight. She got to the stables, walking at a brisk pace. She was both disappointed and grateful that Gary had dragged Jon off to another signing thing. What was wrong with her?

She entered the stable and found no one there, not even Stefan. Moonlight nickered when she saw her rider, tossing her beautiful mane over her shoulder. Alanna grabbed a brush and began to stroke her beloved horse slowly, just the way Moonlight liked it. Carefully, she brushed until every single hair lay flat and smooth, and the horse gleamed. Alanna was tempted to jump on and ride away, gallop until these confusing thoughts fell behind.

Why this sudden return of affection for Jon? She had expected that for the rest of her life, she'd love him as her best friend and closest confidante, and long for George. It was strange to think that she had developed (redeveloped?) attraction to Jon. Maybe she had just been delusional. She checked her heart rate, and found that it was normal. Maybe she'd just imagined it. It struck her as funny that she was worried that she was attracted to the only man she was supposed to bed.

_Oh, well, _she thought as she reached for Moonlight's saddle, bridle, and reigns. _I'm just being ridiculous. _

She heard a crunch of footsteps behind her, but didn't turn around. It was Stefan or another hostler. She was surprised she hadn't seen anyone around. Usually the place was bustling.

She felt the presence of someone standing behind her, but she ignored it. Chances were, it was someone else come to stare at the knight-queen. But they never said anything as she saddled Moonlight. She left the stall to stand in front of her horse, and offered the horse sugar, flattening her hand so not to be nipped by the eager horse.

Then, someone was against her. Strong arms went around her waist as she pulled into the front of whoever it was. She tensed and was about to step on her assailant's foot when she felt a warm breath in her ear that sent shivers down her spine.

"Relax, Lioness. It's just me."

"Jon!" she gasped, surprised. It was as if her thoughts had summoned him. But she was annoyed that he had snuck up on her. Surprise faded, and then anger took over. "How dare you sneak up on me!" She whirled to face him and found herself flush with him again. Just as quickly as the surprise had disappeared, so did her anger. And in its place was that scary, new, old, hot desire.

"Are—aren't—aren't you supposed to be…doing…something?" she stuttered. She tried to avoid his gaze, and found herself staring at his lips and wishing they were closer.

"Maybe."

"Then why—" she tried to ask. But he leaned further towards her, and at the contact her words were silenced. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but he veered left. His voice, soft and warm, made the flesh on her neck shiver deliciously and caused the air current near her ear to move.

"_Tonight_."

Abruptly, he stepped away from her. She stared at him, still speechless. He winked, then tucked his hands into his breech pockets and walked away. She heard his faint whistle as he left the stables and she could see from the window him speed up and run back to the palace.

Moonlight nudged her, probably looking for more sugar, but it seemed as though the horse was asking her a question. Alanna didn't have an answer.

* * *

**My question is: will you please review? Thank you! **


	11. Goodbye, Lioness

**Author's Note: I don't own anything. **

* * *

**Chapter 11: Goodbye, Lioness **

**February 440 H.E. **

It didn't last.

Well, it did, for about two months. They enjoyed their new-found desire for each other. Alanna had a secret hope that it might lead to a rekindling of love. Because then, the awful longing ache in her heart would go away and she could be happy. She could stop thinking about her life. She wished she could return to an unexamined life, where she didn't constantly question her decisions.

But slowly, as if their desire was a spell that only lasted until midnight, it wore off. Not so much as wore, but just stopped. One morning, they woke up among the rumpled bedclothes and looked at each other and simultaneously blushed.

For two months, they had canoodled and hadn't once fought. All hard feelings against Jon, irritation included, were gone, but now they were back with a vengeance. This led to a huge dispute, in the throne room, in front of several people. Luckily, most of those people were trusted friends. Alanna had stomped away, followed by Thayet and Buri, and shut herself in her chambers. They still hadn't quite made up from it yet.

Thayet, in attempts to brighten Alanna's sour mood, had regaled them with tales of her various suitors, from the absurd to the absurdly romantic. Those desperately trying to win Thayet still included Raoul of Goldenlake, but now consisted of a Hollyrose, the second oldest Queenscove, a Masbolle, and Thom of Trebond. Gary had married Lady Cythera. Alanna had been shocked to hear of her twin brother's suit, and was not offended that Thayet did not favor him. Thom and Thayet would have been a disastrous couple. Buri had, thankfully, recovered from her crush on George Cooper, and Alanna no longer had to grit her teeth through her mooning over him.

"I hear he's getting married," Buri offered, sighing just a tad wistfully. Alanna stiffened. "But it's just a rumor. I think he's still fighting those rogue Rogues." Buri chuckled a little at her pun.

Alanna said nothing. It had been quite some time since she'd seen George, but he'd looked thinner and more haggard the last time. The man named Claw was still disrupting the Rogue, and the people of the city were beginning to panic. The Provost Guards and the Rogue had always worked together to keep order in the city, and throughout the kingdom, but now with this chaos, order was starting to run amok. Jon had wanted to make George a baron, and make him his spymaster, but couldn't afford to unseat George from the Rogue throne and have this lawless Claw take it.

Thayet giggled. "It's funny to hear _you _sound like a love-struck maid, Buriram."

Buri scowled. "I am not a love-struck maid. When you're married, O princess, I'll be off on great adventures, and men won't even cross my mind."

"Warrior-maidenhood, here you come," Thayet teased.

Alanna laughed, but felt an odd lurch in her stomach. It was strange to hear something she used to say from the lips of another. She took a long swig of wine in front of her, having lost the taste for ale recently.

"I never managed it, but I hope you do, Buri."

"You wanted to be a warrior maiden?" Buri sounded a bit incredulous.

Alanna nodded. "All I wanted was to be a knight. A husband was the opposite of my goal. If I got married, no one would let me ride off and save people. And later on, I didn't want to fall in love, because I certainly didn't want to let someone have that kind of power over me."

It was the first time Alanna had ever admitted that out loud, and it startled her. She'd never voiced that or even thought it, but now, as she wished she could stuff her words back in her mouth, she knew it was true.

But she'd let down that barrier, she argued with herself. She'd loved Jon…and George. She hadn't _loved _Liam. She'd liked him, and _loved_ him physically.

"Apparently, Jon had some kind of magic trick up his sleeve then, didn't he?" chuckled Buri.

"Jon?" Alanna furrowed her brow. "Oh, right, Jon. Of course, Jon."

Thayet watched her carefully, and Alanna hastily changed the subject.

"So who's the lucky man for you, Thayet?"

Thayet blushed, crimson flushing her beautiful cheeks. "I haven't decided. I just…they're _nice_, but I don't love any of them."

"Do you even like any of them? I think you should marry Raoul," asked Buri, scowling. Neither Alanna nor Thayet missed the hot blush that colored Buri's neck when she said Raoul's name.

"Raoul's rather nice," Thayet admitted. "He's the only one I'd consider. I mean, I seriously thought about Gary, but he's married now. It's just…I still would like to be common-blood, and not have to marry someone I don't…want to."

"Then don't get married," Alanna said.

"What?" Thayet blinked.

"Don't get married," Alanna shrugged. "If you don't want to get married, don't let yourself be forced into it. Look at me."

"But you love Jon," argued Thayet weakly.

Alanna waved that away. "I still didn't want to get married."

The women sat quietly for a moment, contemplating both past and present decisions. Alanna thought about Jon and their marriage, and how Jon still wanted children. Thayet thought about marriage and love, and vainly tried to keep her thoughts away from the person she knew she was falling for, but could never have. Buri thought about Raoul and the way the big man laughed and teased her, and how he probably never would even pause to consider her that way. Luckily, Buri was the only one whose disposition never let her suffer long over the trials of the heart. She could shrug away those sorts of melancholy, usually after a good long dose of physical activity.

"Let's go to the practice courts. Alanna, you promised you'd spar with me."

Gratefully, the others quickly rose and fetched their weapons.

Alanna had just gotten into the pattern, and could feel the satisfying burn of her muscles, when her stomach convulsed. Without warning, Alanna ran over to the side of the practice court and vomited.

Wiping her mouth, Alanna remained leaning over. Thayet and Buri hurried over to make sure she was alright.

"Are you sick?" asked Thayet.

Alanna shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Well. Do you feel like you're going to… again?"

Alanna gingerly touched her stomach. "No. I feel fine now."

"Maybe it was too soon after breakfast," Buri suggested.

"Could be," Alanna said, thinking that it was logical. "Let's go." She turned and headed back onto the court.

"Are you sure?" asked Thayet worriedly. "I mean, it might not be that. Alanna, it could be that—"

"That _what_?" Alanna snapped. Their eyes met and Alanna knew what Thayet was thinking, and Thayet knew that Alanna had already thought of it. Alanna shook her head.

"I'm fine. Really. Forget it, okay?"

Thayet hesitated, knowing that she shouldn't allow her friend to do strain herself physically if…

"Please?" Alanna added, her violet eyes pleading. If she was…_that_, than sooner or later she'd have to give this up, and she wasn't ready to do that yet.

Thayet acquiesced, against her better judgment, to the desperation in her friend's eyes. But when they faced off, Thayet's blows were gentler towards Alanna. Alanna noticed, and finally sent Thayet to the targets for archery.

Soaking in the hot water later, Alanna began counting days. She counted again. She counted backwards. She counted forwards. If she knew how to count sideways, she would have done that. Panic beginning to grip her stomach, she realized that she had missed her period. As she started to count in Scanran, Faithful entered the room.

_You've never had a head for mathematics, but if you count again, I'll scratch you_, threatened Faithful.

"It just…can't—no—it just can't…" Alanna stuttered, afraid to admit aloud.

_It can, you nincompoop, _Faithful yawned. _Did you think that you'd be immune just because you're a legend? After the charm came off, you hadn't an ounce of protection against it. I expected it sooner, while you two were mooning over each other like love-sick puppies. _

"I was not mooning," Alanna said hotly.

_Yes, you were. But it's not your fault. I watched Stone Mountain pour a love draught into your and Jon's ale. Pity you and Jon decided you both didn't like ale anymore. I expect he used one of those potions that eventually turn the drinker away from it. _

Alanna swore. Burchard of Stone Mountain was an avid conservative, and she had heard of his tirades against her. Anger bubbled deep within her. She felt tricked and dirty and cheap. Someone thought that they would need to use magic to get her into Jon's bed. It didn't make her possible conception of an heir seem valid—it would make her look worse, she knew. But what was worse, and what worried her more than a crazy pouring love potions into her beverages was the thought she had been fighting earlier. "Why would he do that? And why didn't you tell me?"

_He figured that if you were so in love with Jon, you would give up your shield. And it increased the likelihood that you would get pregnant. You were too busy mooning to listen to a cat._

Ignoring her pet's jibe about mooning, Alanna growled. "Are having heirs all they ever think about?"

_Well, yes. But it would put you out of the practice courts for awhile. _

"Goddess!" she swore.

In a flash, she was out of the water. She dressed hurriedly, pulling on her breeches and shirt and cramming her hair up into a cap. She was out the door, Faithful at her feet.

_Where do you think you're going? _

"City."

Faithful paused for a moment. _Well, if you're going to Eleni, remember she's not at Myles' house. _

Alanna halted. "She's not?" She frowned. Myles and Eleni were due to be married soon. True, there were whispers that Myles and Eleni had taken advantage of their living situation for doings that were supposed to wait until wedlock. But that couldn't be helped because of that Claw fellow who'd been desperately attacking anyone close to the Rogue King, in order to take his throne.

_She insists on living in her own home for the last month before their wedding. Despite the warnings of her son and future husband. _

"Thank you."

Alanna took off running again for the stables. She hurriedly saddled and mounted Moonlight; she rode out of the courtyard before anyone could register that it was the queen riding that furiously.

It took Alanna little time to find Eleni Cooper's house. She leapt off the mare and quickly tied her reins to the horse post behind the house. She knocked hesitantly on the door, then more forcefully when there was no answer. Finally, just as she was about to break the door down to make sure Eleni was alright, the woman opened the door. Alanna pulled her cap off.

"Alanna!" said her future mother-in-law. "I mean, Your Majesty," she quickly amended.

"No, no. Just Alanna, please," the redhead insisted. "I can't stand the title from people who know me before. And you're almost my mother."

Eleni smiled tightly. Alanna noticed that the woman was paler and moved slower than usual.

"Are you alright, Mistress Cooper?" Alanna asked timidly.

"Quite fine," the healer replied. She sounded rather cross. "Are you here for just a chat or anything in particular? I am somewhat busy."

Alanna hung her head. She hadn't meant to disrupt anything, but Eleni was the only one she trusted with her secret. She needed to know whether or not her suspicions were correct. Why was Eleni angry with her? Could she have done something wrong? Was it because Alanna had married Jon, and not George?

"I do need your help, please."

"Then, come in and shut the door behind you. You won't mind if I don't offer tea, will you?"

"No. Don't trouble yourself, please, Mistress Cooper."

Eleni gestured for Alanna to have a seat in the kitchen, while she bustled about, grabbing an herb, stirring a large pot.

"Well?" she asked, not looking at the queen.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Surprised, Eleni whirled around.

"Well, this isn't why I'm here, but I might as well say it," Alanna's words rushed out. "I'm sorry I didn't marry George."

Eleni's shock fell away and was replaced by tenderness.

"Oh, darling," she said softly. Alanna kept her face down, but Eleni lifted her chin. The older woman paused, sensing something with her Gift, but ignored it for a moment. "No one is angry at you for that. Yes, I did want you for a daughter-in-law, I won't lie, but it wasn't my decision to make. If the Goddess meant for a woman like you to take on this kingdom, then who am I to stand in the way? Alanna, I hold no grudge, and neither does George."

Alanna moved her gaze away from the woman's face, embarrassed. The Goddess didn't approve of her marrying Jonathan. Eleni gently ran her fingers through Alanna's copper curls. She could see how lost the young woman was, and how well she hid it.

"Besides, I still get you for a daughter in a month's time. Now, you came here for another reason, surely."

Alanna couldn't find the words to express what she desperately didn't want to be true. "I…well, I think…it might be possible…"

"That you are pregnant? Because you are."

"I am?"

Eleni nodded, smiling. "Congratulations." She placed her hand on Alanna's abdomen. "You're about six weeks in, meaning that you likely will start having morning sickness."

"How do you know?"

"My Sight, dear. I have a healing Gift and a sense of Sight that allows me to see these sorts of things."

"So, George got his Sight from you then," Alanna thought aloud.

"He told you?" Eleni's brow furrowed. Alanna nodded, puzzled. "George doesn't often tell people that he's Gifted." She sighed. "Yes, he got it from me. I don't think his father possessed any magic, but I can't be entirely sure."

"I see," said Alanna in a small voice. It hurt worse to know George trusted her that much.

"Here, my dear. Now that you're expecting, I'll be up to the palace helping you. I'm sure Thayet will know plenty, but you'll need me for the hard stuff. I'll write you a list of foods that you are not allowed to eat. Anything with alcohol is right out. Vegetables are excellent…"

Eleni's instruction went on and on, and Alanna barely listened. Luckily, the healer wrote it all down for her and tucked it into her pocket.

"Good luck, Alanna," she said as she hugged her soon-to-be stepdaughter. As she rode away, Eleni threw up a prayer to her patroness. "Goddess, keep your hand gently upon her. She'll need it yet."

Alanna did not go straight to Jon after she left Mistress Cooper's. She dawdled. She slowly turned Moonlight back to the palace, gazing longingly at the Dancing Dove as she rode past. Once she reached the royal stables, she thoroughly groomed Moonlight. She even cleaned the saddle and bridle and bit and reins and girth and stirrups. Then, when Stefan shooed her out, she walked slowly through the palace, pausing to study the tapestries and paintings as if she'd never seen them before.

She went to the pages' and squires' mess hall to see if they would have any lunch. Duke Gareth and the lads all rose and bowed to their queen. She bade them sit and went for a tray. However, when she sat down, she realized that all the food she had asked for was on the list of things not to eat. She rose, and gave the tray back to the kitchen staff, telling them not to put it to waste.

Finally, unable to bear the secret any longer, Alanna entered Jon's receiving chamber.

"I have something to tell you."

"Alanna, not _now_." Jon didn't even look up from the piles of documents scattered across the table.

"It's important."

"Of course it is," he snapped. "_Everything's_ important. The tax increase is important. The unemployment rate is important. The education of commoners is important. The color of the new wall is important. The fly on the new wall is important. The left buttock of the scullery maid is important."

"Is it now?" Alanna asked impertinently. "And I suppose the coming of your future child is not important?"

"I didn't mean—" Jon started to apologize. "Wait, did you just say 'future child'?"

"I also said 'coming'. But that's not as important as a fly on the wall or the maid's left buttock." Alanna turned and briskly left the room.

"Alanna! Alanna! Wait!" she heard Jon behind her. She turned and faced him, her one fair eyebrow raised.

"Did you—did you mean that you're—you're…?" Jon asked, his hands spread in front of him. Alanna could see the ink stains on them, as well as on his shirt. His blue eyes were lit with hope.

"Yes, Jon," she whispered. "I'm pregnant."

Jon's whoop of joy caught her by surprise. Her husband picked her up and swung her around and kissed her firmly on the lips.

"Oh, Alanna, I _love_ you."

"I love you too, Jon," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "If I knew you would be this happy, I should have become pregnant long ago."

"But you had to be ready," he said earnestly, setting her back on her feet.

"I'm not sure I'm entirely ready, Jon," Alanna said. "But it's happening, and I can't do anything about it. So I'm along for the ride."

"A baby!" he whispered. He knelt, reverently touched her stomach. "Thank you, Mithros and Merciful Mother," Jon breathed, closing his eyes as if he were praying. "Thank you." He put his face against his wife's stomach. Alanna gently stroked his coal black hair, glad at least that _he_ was happy.

-x-x-x-

"You called for me, Your Majesty?"

Alexander of Tirragen stood in the doorway. Alanna and Jon were sitting in his chambers, Alanna on his desk, Jon holding her stomach. He had, over the past two days, developed a habit of laying his palms across her uterus as if he were willing the unborn infant to kick his hand.

"Ah, yes. Come in, come in, Alex."

Alex entered, and slowly approached them.

"Your Majesties." He bowed elegantly. "Jon, you wished to have a _private_ word?"

"Actually, Alanna, it is good you're here now. Duke Gareth and I have been discussing the matter of Champion," he said to both of them.

"I'm Champion," Alanna said quickly. And she was. She'd already fought three duels in the capacity of Champion, and had won all of them.

"Yes, for now. But we realized that in the case of you being… unable to fulfill your duties—"

"Begging your pardon, Jon, the whole court knows the queen is expecting," Alex said coolly.

Alanna turned red and Jon grinned widely. "Rumor does move quickly."

"You did yell something about a baby rather loudly in front of people, you dolt," Alanna teased, knowing that Jon would only grin, prouder than a peacock.

Alex interrupted. "You are asking me to be the replacement Champion?"

Jon blinked, surprised that Alex had jumped straight to the topic.

"Yes."

"Why?" Alex's question was softly spoken, but there was a cutting edge to it.

"You're the best for the position, Alex."

"The 'best'?" Alex's eyes glinted coldly. "I wouldn't say that. If I were best, than I'd _already_ be Champion."

Jon recognized the danger, but did not understand the malice. "Alex, Alanna was chosen for Champion by _me_, because of her renown and for her skill. In my opinion, you are equal to her skill."

"I don't want the Lioness' leavings, while she's birthing cubs."

Alanna felt a growl building up in her throat. Ever since he had almost killed her, she had a strong distrust for Alex. That distrust was growing into dislike.

"Please, Alex. It's only temporary," Jon asked. "I have another assignment in mind for you, one at which there is none other that could perform it to your ability. But I need you for this."

Seeming to be acquiesced, Alex bowed. "As you wish." He turned on his heel and left.

"He was rotten to you."

Jon sighed. "He's angry that he hasn't been able to prove how good he is. It's a matter of pride to him. I don't think he's ever recovered from discovering you were a girl—and could best him. Don't worry about Alex. He'll come round."

"So what now then? He plays at Champion, while I sit on my bum?"

"Eating bon-bons," Jon said teasingly.

"No," Alanna shook her head. "I'll be in the practice yards 'till the very end."

"You will not!" Jon's voice was harsh.

"But Jon!"

"No buts, Alanna. We can't risk your health, or the baby's." His voice softened. "It'll only be until he's born. Then you can get right back on Moonlight and start beating off conservatives. With a baby, you can show them that you can do your duty as queen _and _a knight. Then I'll send Alex off to prove his worth, and you'll be Champion. It's simple, Lioness."

Alanna crossed her arms. She did not like this. _But, _she thought as she looked down at her stomach, _it will be over soon. Nine months. That's not too long, right? Nine months of doing absolutely nothing. No Moonlight, no swords, no practice. _

_Goodbye, Lioness. Hello, House Cat_, she thought grimly.

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**I know it's been awhile, but review, please! With whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top! **


	12. Arrival

**Author's Note: It was pointed out by someone in a PM (no, I shan't tattle **_**who**_**) that it appears I really don't like Alanna. No, I **_**love **_**Alanna. But I **_**loathe**_** Alanna and Jon. I started this fic to prove just how wretched their poor lives would be if Alanna agreed to marry him. However, it's changed from just that. **

**Luckily, the woman who created the former lovers put them out of their misery without this mess. **

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**Chapter 12: Arrival **

**Late September 440 H.E. **

Nine months was a very long time. For Alanna, it felt like it would never end.

She had never been one to stand in front of reflective surfaces and gaze at herself, but now she avoided them. She was as big as Moonlight around and her way of moving could no longer be considered "walking." It was waddling.

She was grateful, at least now, that the colder months were coming. During those warm spring and summer months, she could scarcely keep from crying. She was allowed to take walks in the gardens, but not long ones. Nothing physical could she do, and for someone whose life had been one strenuous physical exercise after another, it was torture.

Thayet and Jon treated her like an invalid. Raoul and Gary were good for a joke, but neither would pick up a weapon, despite her pleading. Roger scowled, perhaps remembering a time when he awaited his cousin's birth. Buri just rolled her eyes, and eyed Alanna's protruding stomach. Faithful kept her amused and tried to divert her restlessness and resentment. But, as he said, there was only so much a cat could do. Thom, ill as ever, helped his sister as best as possible, by making kind comments as to what creatures she was roughly the size of. Coram was with Rispah, who was expecting their first child. Myles and Eleni, now happily wed, visited often, so Eleni could help Alanna. Alex and George stayed far away, for different reasons.

The entire court held its breath, anticipating a royal child and, hopefully, an heir. Rumors flew viciously that this child was not Jon's, but many who loved their Lioness disbelieved it.

Alanna's back constantly was cramped and in pain from the load her front carried and her feet were swollen two sizes. Her legs, used to carrying her and a ton of armor, never buckled under the weight, though her knees ached. She couldn't see her legs or feet over her baby "bump." Loose gowns were all she could wear. She had never been one for strong liquor, but she craved it now, though she was forbidden it. The food she wanted to eat caused people to look at her strangely: pickles and strawberry cream, wild boar and marzipan, cookies and gravy, potatoes and chocolate cream.

"I feel like I'm eating for an army, instead of for two," she said grumpily to Eleni and Faithful. Eleni was checking on her health, as Alanna was due in a week. She had, at first, cringed at the thought of what was to come at the end of her term, but now, she wanted the thing out of her.

_That's because you're eating for three. _

Alanna stared at her cat, who was calmly washing his black paw. He looked up slowly and the two purple gazes met. Eleni, who Faithful had permitted to hear him, nodded.

"I suspected that."

The pregnant queen turned to her stepmother. "You knew? I'm having _twins_?"

Eleni sighed. "I couldn't be sure, because predicting specifics with pregnancy is not a precise art. But I have thought that there were two heartbeats, but I wasn't sure whether I was just hearing the child's and yours. But if Faithful says so, I believe it." Here Eleni grinned. "It explains why you're larger."

Alanna groaned and rolled her eyes, tired of hearing about her abnormal size. "Well, at least I got a warning of a few days before I have to push two of them out of me." She stood up to leave and gasped as she felt a popping feeling inside her, followed by a gush of involuntarily water.

Eleni started to laugh, but stopped when she saw Alanna's face.

"Or not," Alanna said weakly as she leaned against the table. "Eleni, I think my water just broke."

-x-x-x-

Alanna labored to give birth for almost ten hours. Faithful had run and fetched Thayet and Myles, while a page had scurried for the king, with the news that Alanna was having twins, and she was having them _now_. Alanna, who had broken multiple bones and sustained multiple wounds, swore that nothing was more painful than having a child. Finally, out came one baby, then another. The first-born was a girl, the second a boy.

Alanna, exhausted, leaned back against the pillow. Her red hair was matted against her forehead and her violet eyes matched the bags under them. She was handed a flask of water, which she drank greedily. Jon sat next to her, still holding her hand. His palm and fingers were marked with red, where Alanna's nails had dug in.

Eleni wrapped the two squalling infants in clean blankets, wiping the fluids from their faces. Jon stood up and solemnly accepted his first child. The king had the right to be the first to hold the royal children. He gazed down at the little girl, who was crying most bravely. A small patch of coal black hair dusted her tender skull. Alanna watched as Jon gazed down at the baby. His eyes were filled with wonder and awe and love. When the little girl opened her eyes, his flew open wider, for the little girl's eyes matched his.

Eleni then handed him the second twin, the boy. This infant was quiet as he was settled into the crest of his father's arm, opposite his sister. Then he let forth a most wild cry, as if he was letting his sister know that she may have been heard first, but he would be heard above her. He, too, had his father's raven-colored hair, but his eyes were the exact same shade as Alanna's.

Jon marveled at the tiny bundles he gripped in his arms. _He_ had helped create these two tiny, perfect beings. Alanna, now sitting up against the many pillows, cleared her throat. She wanted to see what was holding Jon so in wonder. She wanted to see her children.

Knowing what she was thinking, Jon handed the children to their mother. The girl was put in the crook of her right arm, and the boy in her left. Alanna gasped. A bubbling of emotion grew in the pit of her stomach and poured upward, through her veins to her lungs and her heart, to her arms that held the two most beautiful creatures she had ever seen.

For the past year, she had longed for that true kind of love, that forever love that she'd thought she'd thrown away. And now, she found her own forever love, housed in her children. She cooed softly at them as they began nuzzling at her, hungry. Her heart thudded as the boy found her nipple through her nightgown. She looked at those gathered, and shyly smiled. She looked at Eleni questioningly. Eleni nodded, and drew the covers higher so Alanna could pull the neck of her shift down so her children could feed.

Not hearing the whispers of the maids about why a wet nurse hadn't been called, Alanna watched her little boy and little girl nuzzle her, feeling as love was coming out her pours. Gently, a hand smoothed back her hair and she looked up at the father of her children.

"What shall we name them?" Jon asked, his joy humming from him. Slowly, Eleni motioned for everyone to leave the new parents to themselves, and the congregated well-wishers backed out of the room, off to drink champagne and spread the news that the queen had delivered two children, and that Tortall had an heir.

"I don't know," she said, alarmed that she had never even thought of names. Who could bear such responsibility as to give a child an identity?

"I was thinking, perhaps, Roald…and maybe Lianne?" Jon's eyes were hesitant.

Alanna shook her head. "No, no." Jon opened his mouth to argue. "Jon, it's too soon since your parents' death."

"Well, then, we won't name them after _your_ parents," he said, a little crossly. Alanna bit her lip.

"What about Alan?"

Jon thought. "How about, Lianne and Alan, then? Or Roald and…what was your mother's name?"

"Marinine," Alanna said softly. She looked down at the children. The boy was now asleep, while the little girl gazed up at her mother. "She doesn't look like a Marinine or a Lianne."

Jon gazed down, and had to agree. Neither of their mothers were strong individuals, but this little girl's sapphire eyes met his with a determination that said she would not be weak.

"What about Alanna?" he suggested.

"No." Alanna was adamant. She didn't want an Alanna junior. Let the child make her own name.

Jon ran threw the list of female names in his head. They needed a name for this little girl with bright determined eyes.

Alysy, Jessamine, Amina, Eleni, Larica, Vania, Thayet, Ermelian, Jolene, Myrna, Jacalyn, Honoria, Cynthia, Moiré, Thea, Giselle, Regina, and Margareth were all rejected, as were Marilynn, Narcissa, Finola, Penelope, Lurline, Minerva, Aryan, Sabria and Flora. Alanna's favorite was Eilonwy, but Jon shook his head 'no.'

"What about Kalasin?" Jon asked timidly. "It's—"

"Thayet's mother…" Alanna finished for him. She looked at him sternly.

"Yes. I was hoping to ask Thayet to be godmother," Jon said quickly. "And no, it's not like _that_. I just want to give Kalasin, _our _Kalasin, a chance to shine. It's a strong name."

Alanna gazed down at the little girl and tried it. Kalasin.

"Kalasin," she said softly. The little girl turned her head, changing her focus from her father to her mother. Her expression read almost as if she was looking around—_I've heard my name, but who said it?_

"We should ask Thayet if she'll let us use her mother's name."

As if he had realized that they were not paying attention to him, the little boy gave a cry.

"Of course, it's your turn, my little prince," Jon laughed.

"Like his father," Alanna teased. "He hates when others go first."

Jon would have nudged her hard in the side for that comment, but as she was holding the children, Kalasin and her brother, he didn't dare.

Alanna looked down at her second child. It really hit her then that she was holding the future king of Tortall. This little boy was heir to the throne.

As difficult as Kalasin's name was to choose, the little prince's name was more so.

Roald and Alan were liked, but Alanna didn't want Roald and Jon didn't want Alan. Jasson, Lionel, Gregorio, Emeric, Gareth, Tibbot, Orwen, Francis, George, Conal, Liam, Jonathan, Gilbert, Artemis, Bilius, Ronald, Oswald, Cormac… Jon wanted Geoff, but Alanna said no.

"Why is there so much more of a selection of male names?" Alanna had huffed.

Aidan, Huntley, Rostov, Amir, Egolf, Norris, Robin, Gabriel, Taylor, Coric, Taran, Gaive, Darwin… None of them fit.

"I certainly wasn't this difficult to name as a child," huffed Jonathan, who now held the boy. He lifted him up slightly. "Choose a name, will you?"

The child rolled his eyes as if in exasperation at his father.

"He looks at me the same way your brother does," Jon sighed, before being struck with inspiration. "What about Thom? Or Thomas?"

Alanna looked at her son and smiled. "He does look like a Thom," she agreed.

"Thomas the First," Jon said, trying it out.

Thom screamed.

"See! He likes it!" crowed his proud father.

"Thomas and Kalasin," sighed their mother, trying out their names. "Kalasin and Thomas."

"Thom and Kally," suggested Jonathan who, unlike Alanna, understood the importance of shortening one's name so it would be possible to pronounce it. "Kally and Thom, it is," he decreed.

He looked at his wife and best friend, whose eyes shone from happiness and exhaustion. He kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Thank you," he explained, as Alanna gave him a confused look. "For this. For them. They're beautiful."

"You're welcome," she said. As she had pushed and pushed at Eleni's urging, she had thought of horrible things to say to Jon for putting her in this position, but now that the result of her pushing lay against her, she couldn't even remember that she wanted to call Jon an arrogant toe-rag and a horrible, life-sucking Kraken.

"It wasn't so bad, now was it?" Jon had to ask, smirking. Alanna then remembered she'd wanted to call him the foulest king of the Stormwings and the prince of slime.

"I'm not about to do it again," she snapped. However, her voice did not quite convey her anger and she weakly trailed off. The taxing of labor on her body suddenly demanded to be paid, and she could barely keep her arms about her daughter. Jon, noting her fatigue, smiled and began to stroke her temple, knowing that it would make her way to sleep faster. Immediately, her eyes began to flutter.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Eleni entered the room. "Is she asleep?" she asked in a whisper of the king, cradling a bundle in his arms.

"Almost," Jon replied.

"I'll see to her, Your Majesty," Eleni bobbed. "And the children. You've got matters of state, I'm sure, you should be handling."

"Probably," Jon grinned. But his eyes lingered on his children. Would that he could stay here with them all day.

"Have you chosen names?" Eleni asked as she took the twins from Jon. He nodded.

"Kalasin and Thomas."

Eleni nodded her approval. "Beautiful names for beautiful babes," she said as she shooed the new father out of the room. "You'll have all the time in the world to adore them, sire. But right now, they need to be cleaned up."

-x-x-x-

The first thing Alanna did when she came to, a day and a half later, was to demand to see her children. It surprised her, but Alanna was caught up in being a mother in a way she never thought she would be. Kalasin and Thom were the light in her eyes and the beat of her heart.

**

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****Awwwww. **

**Recommendation: If you want a really good fic about Alanna's pregnancies, read **_**Cubs **_**by Bevin Brighteyes. It's pure Alanna as she gives birth to Thom, Alan, and Aly (yes, the ship in that one is canon). It's one of my favorites. **


	13. Confrontation

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! I know it's been a bit since I updated, but here's Chapter 13! I own this idea; not these characters or settings. **

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**Chapter 13: Confrontation **

**December 441 H.E. **

Alanna gently kissed Thom, then Kally on their foreheads. Kally mumbled a little, but neither awoke. Smiling, Alanna nodded her head at the maids as she left the nursery.

She had taken it easy after the twins' birth. After all, many had pointed out that it was the winter months, and with Midwinter right around the corner, why should she strain herself going right back into her physical routines? Alanna had agreed, but only because she could barely stand to be away from her children. When she woke in the morning, she hurried to their crib-side. When she went to bed, the last thing she did was kiss them good-night.

But as dearly as she loved them, she missed her sword. She'd agreed to allow Alex a few months more as Champion, but she'd exercised for several hours each day in secret, gaining back the muscle she had lost during her pregnancy.

Now that the twins were tucked into their cribs for a nap before the Midwinter Ball, she was headed for a solid hour of intense workout.

_I wouldn't try it. _

"Why not?" Alanna asked, as Faithful slinked after her out of the nursery. "And since when were you allowed back in the nursery?"

_Maude convinced them that I wouldn't sit on the children and suck out their breath while they were sleeping. _

"Well, that's a relief."

_I suppose. _

Faithful was not fond of children generally, but he made an effort for Alanna's sake.

_Your kittens are not as inclined to tail-pulling as some. _A shudder rippled down his inky back as if remembering some distant tail-pulling incident that scarred him for life.

"Who possibly could have pulled your tail? You were a kitten when I found you."

_Don't be stupid, Alanna. _Faithful's tail twitched. Alanna sighed. She _knew _that Faithful was something else, something more powerful. A constellation, apparently. But she wanted to know more about the others who he had protected, besides herself.

_I'll tell you that I like the name you chose for me best. Does that satisfy your curiosity? _

"What were the other names?"

Faithful wrinkled his nose. _The most original was 'Cat',_ he informed her sarcastically._ But I also once was Blackie, Sauce, Akasha, Ink, Demon, Ashes, Uirtsaktak—_ he shuddered again here. _I hated that_ _name. Oh, and Pounce_, he added. There was a fond note in his voice, as if he had enjoyed being Pounce. Alanna felt a twinge of jealousy. She didn't much relish the idea that she wasn't as special to Faithful as Faithful was to her.

_Oh, stop that. The others were only temporary. There's only been one other human I've been stuck with for any large amount of time.. _

"What does 'Uirtsaktak' mean?" Alanna asked, grateful for Faithful's no-nonsense attitude. Since she'd become a mother, there was a lot more emotion turmoil within her than she thought necessary.

'_Playful.' It's a combination of Carthaki and Yamani. I'm not sure of its origin otherwise. The donator of that name was quite eccentric. _

"The Goddess referred to you once as 'Ailuro.' Is that your true name?"

Faithful smirked as only a cat could. _'Ailuro' means 'Cat' in the language of the gods. It is no more my true name than 'Faithful' is. I may not be a god, but I do have secrets even from the High and Mighty. They do not know my true name and nor shall they._

Alanna had to stop herself from gasping. "Yet you're the Goddess' and not the Trickster's?"

_The Trickster has naught to do with me. He likes to meddle, but cats have their own form of meddling. Besides, I am not fond of crows. _

"Crows?"

_Dedicated to the god, the pesky beggars. They'll do tasks for the shiny baubles only a god or street beggar can provide. Enough about the gods. Speaking of them gives me the same indigestion talking about my fellow stars does. And I know you are not fond of the topic yourself. Ask another question, if you're still feeling curious. _

Alanna shook her head at her pert pet. "Who called you Pounce, then? It sounded like you liked him or her."

_That would be telling. _

"Oh, please!"

_You are a grown woman and queen. None of this begging. _

Alanna pouted.

_Fine. _Faithful rolled his eyes. _A young woman. She was similar to you in many ways, but different, too. A Dog. _

"A _dog_?" Alanna didn't understand.

_Yes._ The cat's tail _swish_ed impatiently. _A Provost's Guardswoman. They used to be called 'Dogs', as a nickname. Nowadays, people don't think it shows proper respect, but Beka loved it—_

"Beka?" asked Alanna.

Faithful snorted, annoyed with himself. _Yes, her name was Beka. And no more about her will you get out of me. _

"Beka who?"

_No. _

Alanna kept her mouth shut, but wondered about Beka. What had drawn the attention of the constellation to her? She had learned that the Cat didn't always attach himself to the Goddess' Chosen. She wondered if Beka and Pounce were anything like Alanna and Faithful.

Absorbed with her thoughts, she rounded a corner and smacked into Burchard of Stone Mountain. He stumbled backwards in surprise. Realizing who it was, he bowed deeply. "My deepest apologies, Your Majesty."

Alanna had not seen the man since before she had heard he was responsible for slipping her and Jon a love potion. Now, the information was recalled to her mind, and her insides hummed angrily.

"Apologies, my lord Burchard?" she asked lightly.

"For the collision, my queen." He was polite as a courtier should be, but beneath that oily veneer, she could sense some venom, some ill will. He was as conservative as they came, and one of many who were not pleased with Jon's choice of queen. He, however, had never been one to "advise" her on her duties as such, but remained in the shadows. He was not much older than Jon, and could not boast of awareness of Tortall's centuries-old traditions that the old geysers did.

"Only for that?" She tried to keep her voice polite and pleasant. Thayet's lessons were helpful in some ways. She no longer challenged men to duels for insinuations. Often.

"Your Majesty," he faltered, "I am unaware of how else I might have offended you."

"Surely, then the rumors are false?" Alanna marveled internally that her voice was sweet.

_It's not that_ _sweet,_ Faithful chided_. _

"Rumors, Queen Alanna?"

"Rumors," she affirmed. "Rumors that say you tried to poison your sovereigns."

"Poison, my—my queen?"

Alanna had wished that he would squeak that word, but alas, Burchard of Stone Mountain would not allow himself to show fright that easily.

"Surely, you have not heard such things! I would never—"

"No, perhaps you would never poison my husband or I, but you are not above slipping us something else, are you?"

Burchard blanched. But his bluster did not die. "Are you suggesting, madam, that I would think you and the king do not share ardor and needed assistance to produce children, as is your first duty as queen, and took matters into my own hands and formulated something to create the passion I thought you lacked?" His eyes glinted dangerously. She had been wrong to corner him here.

"Is that a confession then, Stone Mountain?" He'd taken the bait. She hadn't said what he was "rumored" to have given them. He was guilty, though she had known that anyway. Faithful didn't pass on suspicions or rumors.

_Of course I don't. But not many know you have the Constellation as a friend. _

The man's face became an interesting mix of mottled purple and white. However, contrary to Alanna's hopes, he did not begin apologizing immediately or continue to deny the charges. As his color faded back to normal, his manner turned outwardly hostile and Alanna noted with her peripheral vision that he was reaching for the sheath at his side. Faithful hissed.

"I think, O queen, that you are not the obedient wife you should be. Are you too busy bedding other men that there isn't room for our king?"

Alanna's temper rose. "You dare insult me."

"You've grown complacent, _Sir _Alanna. You learned to live as the sole female knight, but you have not learned how to be queen. You think the crown will protect you?"

"I can protect myself," she said hotly.

"Prove it."

_I'm going for Jon. Do not cut off his head, hear me? _

Where did the man get this nerve? Did he forget that she was Champion? Did he forget that she had bested many knights, despite her gender? She started to reach for her sheath and remembered that Thayet had hidden it.

However, she did have at least two daggers on her person. George Cooper and Liam Ironarm's lessons had sunk it. She was as dangerous as she was with Lightning in her hand.

"You've given the kingdom an heir, and a girl to use for alliance marriages. Congratulations, you've proven that you actually are female. But what use are you to the kingdom? We've plenty of males for the occupation you follow. I think your usefulness has dried up."

Alanna remained motionless. Burchard paced in a semi-circle before her, eyes malicious. He felt that he held the upper-hand—no one was about, even the queen's faithful pet had run off. The knight herself wasn't in shape, since giving birth almost four months ago. He knew he couldn't hope to face the Lioness and win when she was in her full form.

Alanna watched as the bigot insulted her. She wanted to cut him down and teach him a lesson, but knew that as queen, it would not be wise to instigate a fight. She would have to wait for him to make the first move. He smeared her mother, her father, her brother, her friends, and herself. She said nothing. At last she was in familiar territory. During duels, Alanna unnerved many with her refusal to fling insults. Her cold purple gaze held the man's darting eyes as he spat at her, telling her that the only reason she had gotten this far and beaten so many was because she used her feminine wiles to cause any male opponents' downfall, like how a female horse in heat drew stallions.

"I'm confused, my lord Stone Mountain," she said politely. "If you had so many doubts about my being a woman, then how did I use my 'feminine wiles' to take down my opponents?"

Burchard paused for a moment. So often men howled against her, but their reasons were so contradictory it was impossible for them to make a logical explanation for her to put down her sword. He gave her no answer and Alanna allowed herself to smile at him

However, this only served to infuriate the man and he threw himself at her, sword unsheathed. Alanna ducked to the right, pulling her knifes out. Stone Mountain whirled back towards her and Alanna caught the blow that would have sliced her skull between her crossed blades. She gave him a good kick in the belly and the man was forced backwards.

He was quick, Alanna realized, for he immediately went back on the attack. However, he was only a decent swordsman. Alanna, though normally excellent with daggers, found that her movements were not as swift as she usually was. She was not in her full form yet, and a pain between her legs reminded her. Unfortunately, this allowed Burchard opportunity to get too close once or twice. Alanna managed, for the most part, to dodge his blows. She did receive an elbow to the eye, after stopping a blow that could have severed her head from her neck. During that particular part of the scuffle, she could smell the liquor on her opponent's breath.

The fight did not last very long, only five minutes or so. It felt longer to Alanna, whose muscles were lazy and used to rocking babies gently, not swinging knives violently. The crucial moment came when Burchard's sword was again locked in the crossed blades of Alanna. With a wrench, Alanna pulled the sword from the lord's grasp and flung it to the other side of the corridor.

"You've had your duel with the Champion, Burchard of Stone Mountain," she said coldly. "And you have lost."

Burchard smiled, not pleasantly. "But have I lost my duel with the queen?" he asked snidely.

Alanna's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the conservative. The way his fingers twitched, she did not like. She reached for her ember-stone, but just as she was about to grasp the stone, Burchard gave a yell at leaped at her again. He managed to knock the knives from her loose fingers and began to savagely beat at her with his hands.

Alanna had never been one for boxing or wrestling, her size always a disadvantage. But with Liam's help, she had grown stronger in this form of martial arts and began to put her knowledge to the test. Pinned under his large body, she used one arm to block her face and another to try her own blows. However, the man caught her one arm and pinned it under her.

"You think you've won, have you, you little bitch?" he whispered hoarsely. "Just you wait."

He grabbed both sides of her neck and made as if to begin choking her when she brought her knee up to that most sensitive of places between his legs. Howling in pain, he paused just long enough for her to swing her fists forward and make contact with his face. Pushing him off, she got out from underneath him and turned to protect herself. However, Stone Mountain grabbed her ankle and she went down again.

Her lip curled in disgust at how this fight in the corridor had become a brawl, seen in the likes of the Lower City taverns. However, she realized with dread that she was not as strong as she should be, and that her limited strength was wearing out. Never again, she vowed, would she allow herself to be this weak and this vulnerable. Burchard managed to obtain the upper hand and he pushed her against the wall, his body flush with her. Goosebumps grew under her skin at the contact with him. She sneezed three times.

"Like that, slut? How many men have you had since that crown was put on that fire-top of yours? Did you find a lover similar enough to our king so that your children would appear to be legitimate? It's thanks to me that you even have children—thank the gods above that I made sure they're the king's." His hot and alcohol-stained breath blew in her face, and she had never felt fear this way. He pushed himself against her, harder, and she almost vomited into his face.

It probably would have improved the smell.

"You're no better than a common prostitute, bedding the king. You'd have been better off, married to some common blood thief. Instead you slept your way to the throne and a title you don't deserve. Sure, you beat me in arms, but you're no match for anything else than handling big sticks."

Throughout his tirade, Alanna slowly reached up towards the chain she wore around her neck. Burchard didn't seem to notice, and when she finally grabbed her ember, she saw that there was an ugly glow about the man. There was a green Gift that coursed through the man's veins, an ugly sick-green color, but worse was a Gift, colored like her own, purple. This Gift pulsed around him faintly.

Alanna's own Gift ran through her. Carefully, she gathered it into her hand. She let go of the ember and placed her hand against Burchard's chest and pushed.

The man flew away from her and smashed into the opposite wall. Alanna's lungs expanded gratefully, breathing in fresh, hate-less air.

"Unnatural, that's what you are!" cried the man, still reeling from the impact of his crash. He cupped his hands together and made a throwing motion. Alanna drew up a shield as quickly as she could, but she caught the first part of the magical attack. Immediately, her insides turned to mush and her legs threatened to quit. She strengthened her purple shield and thought quickly about her next move. She had been trained in healing mostly, and had never studied intensely the ways of dueling with magic. Her physical strength was low, and though her reserves of her Gift were strong, wielding it took more physical strength that she could muster.

The lord of Stone Mountain seemed to understand this and his smile was gleefully menacing. He began to draw glyphs that shimmered in the air. Alanna realized with horror that they were very similar to the symbols drawn by the former shaman of the Bloody Hawk tribe. Dangerous symbols. Ones that she couldn't overturn. Ones that could destroy not only her but the entire palace, including her children. A cold fear ran through her veins at the thought of losing her twins. Because she knew she had to protect them, she slowly gathered her power to her and readied it to scourge the air of the glyphs, knowing it would probably cost her her life.

A sudden yell distracted both of them, Alanna from her panic and Burchard from his magic. Both turned and saw a very, very tall man, almost stork-like in appearance. He had long black hair, held back from his face. His clothes were patched and ragged, but he spoke with authority. The words that tumbled from his mouth were not Tortallan nor Scanran nor Common, but there was immense power behind them. Alanna saw, her hand wrapped around her stone, black and white Gift leap from the man's hands and devour the glyphs.

"What do you think you are doing?" roared the stranger, advancing on Stone Mountain. "Magic like that, that certainly _you_ can't control. It's beyond your Gift abilities, which you _should_ have known, seeing as you've got someone else's power all over you. Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith! You could have killed this poor girl, whoever she is." His face turned stern. "I'm not as familiar with this kingdom, but I'm sure the priestesses of the Temple of the Goddess are just as displeased with rape as they are where I am from."

"That 'poor girl'," came another voice, dry and yet somewhat amused, "is the queen."

Jonathan stood behind them, his arms crossed and Faithful at his feet.

Burchard shook his head, looking very much like he was coming out of a trance. "Your…Majesties—" he began.

"I saw, Stone Mountain, and heard most of it. It reeks of treachery." Jon's voice lost all amusement.

"My…liege?"

If it weren't because he had just tried, rather viciously and repetitively, to kill her in her own palace, Alanna would have believed he had no clue as to what had just happened. Jon gestured to the guards. "Take him. Leave him until he chooses to explain himself. Then send someone to my lady Stone Mountain and explain that I do not wish to see any of their people until I feel better about the rest of their loyalties." The guards bobbed their heads quickly as they grabbed the lord's upper arms and hauled him off to some keeping cell.

_You didn't chop off his head. Good. _

Alanna rolled her eyes at Faithful. "If I had, I would have been spared a lot more trouble."

The stranger's eyes furrowed in confusion. The corner of Jon's mouth turned up slightly. "The cat can talk," he explained.

Faithful _mrrt_ed. _As if that was the extent of_ _my abilities._

This time, the mage heard. He froze and stared at the cat. After a moment or two, his eyes wide, he bowed from the waist. Faithful smirked.

_It's always nice when you humans recognize me._

"It's always nice to meet creatures of your intelligence and power, O Cat." Despite the reverence in his voice, the stranger's words held just a slight note of irony. He sounded as if he were used to meeting the stuff of legends.

_Beware, Black Robe. I am more than just the queen's cat._

With that, Faithful turned and stalked away, tail held high. The three humans watched him go.

"You have an interesting choice in pets, Your Majesty," offered the stranger, his Common bearing traces of a Tyran accent.

Alanna, still leaning against the stone wall, tried to shrug. "You probably should say that he has an interesting choice in humans." The man smiled at this. "Which makes you a point of interest as well. Not many are allowed to speak with Faithful."

Taking his cue to introduce himself, the tall man bowed elegantly again. It was clear he was accustomed to the etiquette one used about royalty. "I am but a simple foreign juggler, Your Most Gracious Majesties, called—"

"Nonsense," Alanna scoffed. "Besides that you scolded Stone Mountain, I saw your magic. Faithful addressed you as 'Black Robe'." Her eyes widened. "Are you truly a Black Robe?"

The man's eyes opened wide. "How…how did you see?"

Alanna smiled. She liked this man, and was most tempted to trust him. But being cautious as she must, she did not reveal her god-given ember-stone. "I have my ways."

He grinned in return. "Magic these days. You think a simple cloaking spell or five will shield your Gift. And then you find a queen scuffling in the hallway with a man, fighting him off with both daggers and magic, who can see through your shields."

Jon's sharp blue eyes turned to Alanna. "Which raises the question about what exactly caused this fight. But first, sir," he said to the Black Robe, "I'd like to know your name and business in Tortall."

"If I had any doubts you were king, sire, they are now gone. My name is," Alanna saw Jon's fingers twitch and knew he had employed the same truth spell she had just cast. "...Arram Draper. Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith!" he swore. "I haven't been hit by a truth spell that hard in years, not to mention two."

"Why would you hide your true name?" asked Jon, ready to cast another spell. He was charmed by the man, but had not let himself trust him. If Faithful was correct and the man was a Black Robe, he was very powerful, and potentially dangerous. Also potentially very useful.

"I changed my name when I graduated from the Carthaki University. Arram Draper does not sound like the name of a Black Robe mage." He drew himself up stiffly, as if he were trying to convince them it was all pride for him.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Only pride, then?"

Arram Draper sighed. "I am on the run from a very powerful man. He and I were friends for a long time, but he has since turned on me."

"And dared to threaten you?" asked Jon.

"He is not my equal, but very near. He did not have the patience for the University, but he is ruthless."

"Emperor Ozorne?" asked the king and queen in unison.

"Damnation," cursed Arram, clearly frustated. "I only meant to stop by the palace to see what the magical ruckus was, and now I've been discovered by the king and queen. It seems, Your Majesties, that you know just about everything about me. It is not often when I've been gotten the better of. I have been lax in my defenses. Would it be rude to ask of yourselves? Rumors about Tortall have abounded for years, but I hardly expect one often meets queens and kings in hallways combating lords."

Jon laughed, and even Alanna grinned sheepishly. "It's relatively new that Alanna duels in hallways, and I'm not sure why she chose to fight Burchard of Stone Mountain now, especially since she was strictly not supposed to be anywhere near a weapon until March. She just gave birth to twins, you see, Master Draper. Queen Alanna also happens to serve the kingdom as my Champion."

"Maternal leave is what required her to not touch a sword? But where did Her Majesty get the daggers?"

"An old friend taught me to be always armed, and thanks the gods I followed his advice," Alanna said grumpily. "But I'm done practicing in secret—maternity leave, that's over now." Jon opened his mouth to argue. "No, Jon. I can't be at a disadvantage like that again. If someone else were to attack…thank the Goddess I'd disobeyed for as little as I did."

"No one should be attacking anyone, especially _my_ wife in _my_ palace," Jon said crossly. "What did you say to him?"

Alanna looked at the floor. "He slipped us a love potion, and I called him out for it. But," she added quickly, "he attacked me first."

"He what_?_" Jon roared. Alanna glanced side-long at Arram Draper, who was carefully studying the ceiling.

"Faithful told me."

"When?" Jon's eyes snapped angrily, looking like pure blue flame. Alanna sighed, and wished that she hadn't told him.

"Last December," she whispered. She saw Jon do the math in his head, and saw the revelation gleam from her husband's eyes as he realized that last December was the time of that unusual, crazy time of magicked passion.

"He's dead." Jon's voice was flat.

"Jon, I'm…not sure that's wise." Alanna's voice was small and its tone caught his attention. He looked at her sharply, but she shook her head. She would not discuss this in front of the newcomer.

Jon turned to the Black Robe. "Master Draper, come with me. I should like to speak with you. Alanna, I will speak with _you _tonight."

As the two men swept away, Alanna grasped Arram's arm. "Thank you," she said. "You saved my life."

Arram smiled. "I just thank the gods that they directed me here in time, Queen Alanna."

-x-x-x-

Alanna was with Thayet when Jon found her that evening. The warlord's daughter was dressing Alanna's hair as carefully as she could, trying not to touch the bruises Alanna had sustained from her earlier combat. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about the spectacular blooming black eye. Alanna's gown was just of a few shades' difference of the violet bruise.

Jon stopped in the doorway and paused to watch the two women. Both were extraordinary, he thought, his eyes lingering on the way the shimmering blue contrasted with Thayet's raven hair. Alanna noticed him and cleared her throat. Jon shook away his distraction, but he was not worried that his wife had caught him ogling her lady-in-waiting. Alanna had mumbled George Cooper's name often enough in her sleep that he had no illusions about their feelings for each other.

"Lioness, you have twenty seconds to explain why I am not sending Stone Mountain to Traitor's Hill."

Thayet rolled her eyes, and continued brushing Alanna's hair. She had heard the story before, and she was in agreement with Alanna. Alanna told Jon what Burchard had said, trying to hide her hurt at his words. Jon cursed when he saw the wisdom to just give him a warning and then forget it. He knew it took every ounce of will power on her part to not smack him into the netherworld. She also told him of the presence of the green and purple Gifts, and it disturbed him. She'd sworn it was the exact color of her own Gift, but she hadn't used any at that moment. As difficult and self-concerned as Thom was, he would never do anything that would have threatened his sister.

"For now, I shall banish that whole family," Jon decided. "They can stay on their fief and pray. But he _will_ be punished, Alanna," he said forcefully, touching her cheek gently. "If anything had happened to you, I would never have forgiven him or myself." Alanna pursed her lips and said nothing. "You cannot believe, for one minute, what he said." Jon's voice was fierce as he turned her head so their eyes met. "You are needed here, both as queen and as Champion. _I_ need you. Kally and Thom need you. You and no other could do what you have done in Tortall. I love you, Alanna."

"Then the rumors aren't true?" Alanna asked, some confidence restored in her by Jon's words. They were short, but rang deeper in her heart than anything else. Jon alone knew what needed to be said to cure the damage from the poisonous words spewed from the bigot's mouth.

"No! Of course not! Wait, which rumors?"

"That you've decided to permanently replace me with Alex?"

"Who told you that_?_"

"Several of the esteemed Lords on the Council. They seemed to think that my place was now in the nursery and if I did not lay down my shield, I would never see my children again."

Jon sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Please tell me that you are joking." Both women shook their heads. "Alanna, I swear to you, I will never force you to give up your shield or sword. You are my sword arm. You'd be pretty useless without a sword in hand."

"Thank you, my lord," Alanna drawled sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it like that_,_" Jon sighed. "You know what I meant. No, Alex's alright as Champion, but it's more impressive when you beat them. You gloat less. Besides, Alex is needed to deal with the Copper Isles."

"Thank the Goddess," Alanna said, fully relieved.

"Now, let's try to be positive. We still have to start this Midwinter fiasco, with the first dance and blessing and what-not. And I've got to present the newest addition to our court, Master Numair Salmalin. Thayet, please make sure that Raoul is in attendance, and not hiding. Check behind the tapestries."

"Who's Numair Salmalin?" Alanna asked as she clasped a strand of pearls to her neck. She never was fond of necklaces, but Jon had given her this one for her birthday, and she needed some accessory, since she wasn't allowed to wear Lightening. She tried not to grumble about replacing swords with pearls. She took Jon's arm and they walked together towards the banquet hall.

"An old friend of mine that I met in my travels in Tyra. I've asked him to come and stay awhile in court. He's most kindly obliged me and has arrived today."

"Why is now the first I'm hearing of this?"

Jon grinned. He leaned close to her ear and whispered. "You may recall your new friend, Arram Draper. I have to give some sort of semblance of a reason why he's here. I won't let him go back to the streets. He's been living in Corus, working as a juggler. He's a Black Robe; I can't let him go! But he would prefer not to be known as such, even though I've given him the southern tower. Numair Salmalin is the name he chooses to employ."

Alanna grinned happily as Jon related what Arram/Numair had told him in the ways of his life. "Thom may not be pleased with such a rival," she pointed out. "He'll sense Arram's Gift."

"Thom's got nothing on Arram, I mean, Numair," Jon replied. "Thom's a Master of Mithran Light, but Arr—Numair's a Black Robe. There's very few of them in the world."

By now, they had reached the nursery. Both parents snuck in to bid good-night to their offspring. Maude scolded Alanna about her black eye, but she waved the nurse-maid away. There'd be enough comments and whispers about it tonight at the ball. She leaned over her sleeping daughter and son, and was grateful for Arram. Without him, she might not have been able to kiss them good-night. And that was a most sobering thought.

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**Favorite part? Favorite line? Have I started straying at all from the original characters? Let me know! **


	14. Midwinter Challenge

**Author's Note: Tamora Pierce is the legal mother of Alanna of Trebond and Olau. I only get to baby-sit her occasionally. **

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**Chapter 14: Midwinter** **Challenge**

"We wish you the best of health and happiness in the coming new year. May the gods bless and keep this kingdom." Jon raised his golden goblet to the assembled crowd.

"Somote it be."

Alanna looked out at the group, all in their finest silks and satins and velvets and fur, through her good eye. Many had given her the odd look, but she had noticed that the looks had been more concerned than scandalized. As Jon finished his toast, others rose to offer their own wishes for Midwinter.

"To our king and queen, for their continuing efforts to better Tortall."

"To the health of Prince Roald and Princess Kalasin!"

"To the great gods, for blessing us with our current happiness!"

"For King Jonathan!"

"For Queen Alanna!"

"For the Lioness!"

Alanna had to wipe away her tears with her sleeve. She hadn't realized just how much most people had come to love her as their queen. It healed the hole in her heart that Burchard of Stone Mountain had caused.

"You have surpassed my hopes, my daughter." The red-head blinked and before her, in all her glory, was the Great Mother Goddess. "I had worried, for this was not a path I wanted for you. My vessel, I believed, would better serve her purpose without a crown on her head, but you, Alanna, have done well."

"Tha—thank you." Alanna noticed that the hall was frozen, cheers and raised glasses held as though it were a tableau.

"As queen, you have struggled beyond your nature, and have done wonderful deeds. As Champion, you have protected the king's law. Your life is not unpleasant."

"It is not, my Goddess."

"But is it happy, my chosen?"

Months before, Alanna would have said that no, this was not a happy life. But thinking of her slumbering infants tucked away in their cribs, she honestly answered yes.

"Motherhood has done wonders for you, Lioness. The tender emotions do not come easy for you, but your son and daughter have awoken them in you. But beware, for Fate has been thwarted and it does not wish to be thwarted again."

"My mother, what do you mean?"

But the Goddess was fading from the red-head's sight. "Time will show, my daughter. Fear not, for I shall be always watching."

Alanna blinked and the immortal was gone. As if nothing had happened, the cheers and toasts continued. Jonathan grinned at Alanna, who returned his smile as bravely as she could.

"Thank you, Tortallans," Jon said, holding his own goblet high. "For your support this past year. My Lioness and I are much beholden to you. It is because of you that our great kingdom shall continue to thrive. We promise to continue to do everything in our power to benefit all Tortallans, so that the future will be secure for the future generations."

Applause thundered through the hall. Music swelled and Jon pulled the queen onto the dance floor, where he spun her about. She laughed as she was whirled from his arms to Gary's.

"Mithros, that's a beauty," Gary whistled at the up-close view of her black-eye. "What were you doing? Dueling a nursery maid?"

Alanna rolled her eyes, but was grateful that the steps of the dance brought her away from her friend at that moment. She wasn't sure how she wanted to explain her battle with Burchard of Stone Mountain in the corridor. Fortunately, she was twirled away from Gary to Raoul.

"Someone got lucky," Raoul laughed as he saw the great purple-blue-black-green spot.

Alanna grinned ferally. "I wouldn't say they were lucky."

She could see the question forming in Raoul's face and purposely stepped on her giant friend's feet. As Raoul yelped, she once again moved to the next partner in the set. This time, her partner would not ask questions—for it was Arram, who already knew the story of her colorful appearance.

Arram was grinning. "Such tact and diplomacy in the Tortallan court," he teased.

Alanna couldn't help but return his smile. "Only for very special guests." She glanced over at Raoul, who was still whining like a baby. "Or very old friends."

"Fighting in corridors, stomping on feet…what's next in this display of the court of Jonathan IV and Alanna? Dueling a foreign guest?"

"I am not so crazy as to challenge you. You'd find a way to witch yourself out."

Arram pretended to be offended, holding his hand to his chest. "Do you think so little of me, Your Majesty? I would, at least, make the appearance of fighting you. A simulacrum of me, perhaps."

Alanna had been having fun talking with her new friend, she almost missed the next movement of the dance. Reluctantly, she moved away from Arram and found herself in the arms of a partner she knew she recognized, but could not quite remember. She knew that the man recognized her as well, but was just as confused as she. She supposed she could ask, but decided not to.

Finally, the music drew to a close. Gratefully, Alanna curtsied to her partner and quickly made her way back to the dais, where Jon and Thayet were murmuring together. Alanna was used to the sight, and was only mildly surprised when Jon's expression was guilty as he noticed his wife. Thayet's face gave nothing away.

"Alanna!" whispered Jon, "There's someone here that you should be aware of." The redhead thought of several smart-aleck comments, but chose to keep them to herself. "Does the name Dain of Melor ring a bell?"

"Not particularly, no. Melor is…Tyran?"

"Tusaine, actually. Sir Dain has been in Corus once before, and during his time here, he dueled a young squire." Here Jon gave Alanna a significant look.

"_That_ Dain?" Alanna asked incredulously. Suddenly, she remembered where she had seen that man before. No wonder he looked familiar! "Gods bless, what is he doing here?"

Jon frowned. "Apparently, his defeat at your hands took quite a toll on his self-esteem. He is here to challenge the former squire Alan."

"Merciful Mother," Alanna breathed, feeling as if the breath from her lungs was rapidly being pulling from her body.

Jon seemed to read her mind. "If a loss to a squire hurt his ego so badly, how much worse would it be if he were to find out that you were a girl?"

"Does he know?"

Jon shook his head. "We're not sure. It's pretty widely known we've turned out a female knight, but your ruse isn't as well-known. Dain hasn't announced his intentions formally, but his manservant told someone and it's just being going 'round the rumor mill." He grinned. "Many in this room are aware of his past with you and are looking forward to you confronting him."

Alanna rolled her eyes. "So glad I'm a source of entertainment."

"What are you going to do, Alanna?" asked Thayet, biting her lip worriedly.

"As far as I see it, you have two choices," offered Jon. "You can reveal yourself now or, my personal recommendation, go disguise yourself, show him up, and _then _reveal yourself. But you better decided quick, 'cause here he comes."

Alanna looked over her shoulder and saw that indeed, Dain of Melor was approaching the dais. Quickly, she took her seat, trying to compose herself. What should she do?

"Your Majesties." Dain offered them each a low bow. Jon gravely inclined his head in acknowledgement, a gesture Alanna copied as she met her former opponent's eyes.

"Dain of Melor," Jon began in his regal voice. "It has been many years since you have visited our palace."

"It has, sire. The last time I had the pleasure of being in Corus was with Ambassador Mikal, during your late father's reign."

"So it was," Jon said, his even tone and expression not letting on the tension that had belied the time of the Tusaines' visit.

Dain turned to Alanna, captured again by the queen's eyes. He had seen her eyes before, but the eyes he remembered were as hard as steel and cold as ice. These eyes were the same shape and size, but their expression was not the same. But this woman before him could not have been the upstart boy who'd thoroughly disgraced him. "Your Majesty," he addressed her. "Have you a relation by the name of Alan of Trebond?"

Alanna raised her eyebrows. "I have," she said.

"Is he a Knight of this realm?"

"He is," she replied as calmly as she could. After all, her father, Lord Alan of Trebond, _was_ a Knight of Tortall, though a deceased Knight of Tortall.

"You may think me forward, Queen Alanna. But your face is very familiar to me. Have you a twin brother?"

Alanna was sure he could hear her heart beating hard against her rib cage. "I do."

A slow smile crept across the man's face. Aha! No wonder the woman looked so familiar! Her twin brother! "Then I would like to make a request." He turned and faced the crowded hall. As if sensing drama, a hush fell over the assembly as they watched the foreigner. "I would like to challenge Sir Knight Alan of Trebond to a re-match duel. We fought when he was but a squire. My defeat at his hands did not much disgrace me, but I have returned to prove, before the gods, that I am the better knight."

Whispers broke out, as everyone turned to their neighbor. Jonathan stood and raised his hand, signaling for quiet. "My queen, what do you say to this challenge? Shall we allow this knight a re-match to prove his honor?" His eyes met hers, amusement dancing there. Alanna found her lips curving into a smile, the same reckless smile she had worn before facing Dain the first time.

"I think," she replied, her voice echoing across the hall, "that Sir Alan would have very few objections to another trial by combat."

Dain smiled, a hard grimace across his face, and his eyes twinkled maliciously. She could tell that the man was desperate to beat this Alan; his temper had probably not changed since the last time they had crossed blades. He seemed to have lost some of his bluster, but she couldn't believe it was completely gone. He was so humiliated at defeat that it had affected him for this long. She pitied him, wondering how anyone could ever hope for peace if one always had to win.

"The indoor courts should be clear at this hour," Jon supplied. "Shall we move towards them?" He offered his hand to Alanna, who shook her head.

"You go on. I shall check on the children and inform my brother of this challenge."

She picked up her skirts and left the Great Hall. She could see on every single person's face a mischievous delight in the spectacle. They all knew of her identity, but none would step forward to inform Dain of the misunderstanding. She saw a few men shake their heads, heard them wonder aloud how he could not be aware of the Lioness' deeds. She winked at these as she passed, her heart humming with excitement. Thank the Goddess she had been working in private to build her strength back. At least she would have the stamina and muscle to hold him off. She had learned from her scuffle with Stone Mountain that practicing movements was not the only way to keep in top combat condition, but it was a start. Alanna passed the nursery, but didn't stop. As tempting as it was to peek in on her sleeping son and daughter, she had something important to do. Now, she must protect her position as both Champion and legendary knight. The hum of excitement thrilled her, reminding her of why she had gone through all the trouble to become a knight.

In her chambers, she drew on the soft combat clothes she owned, similar to the ones she had used in her first battle with Dain. As she tucked her shirt into her pants, she reviewed what she remembered from that day. Dain had had some drink in him, but he would be sober tonight. He preferred to try to antagonize her by insulting her. He also had no control on his temper. And if the defeat she had handed him before had simmered in him for this long, it would not take much for it to boil over. This could either be an advantage or a disadvantage.

She found a pitcher of water and began to scrub off the light face-paint Thayet had applied earlier and removed her necklace. She looked in the mirror and realized that her hair still hung down to her shoulders. What could she do? Twisting her hair up would not help disguise it, nor would a cap be practical. She considered pulling her hair back into a tail, but long hair would be a dead giveaway. She would have to cut it.

For some reason, the idea made her excited. She _missed _life as Alan, she realized. The only thing she had truly hidden during those years was her gender—she had never changed her personality. The freedom to ride into the distance, to swing a sword without causing old men to scold… Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she lifted the scissors towards her red locks. She considered closing her eyes, but realized she wanted to see her hair fall…and closing one's eyes while using scissors on oneself was positively stupid.

With a few snips, her hair fell away, landing on the floor. She tried to make it as even as possible, but the back was a little crooked. She shook her head, relishing in the feel of her bare neck.

She grinned in the mirror. She looked just like an older version of the boy she had been…except for the breasts. She scrambled into the trunk for one of her old corsets. There was no use going to all this trouble to forget this one crucial element.

With that final finishing touch, she could barely keep her eyes off the looking glass. There was nothing she could do about the bruise.

"It's been a while, Alan," she said to her reflection.

_Yes, it has. _With a bound, Faithful leapt from the door frame up on to the dresser, and then onto Alanna's shoulder. Now the picture was complete.

_Let's go remind this court who you are. _

"But I'm not Alan," Alanna reminded her cat.

_Yes, but you are a warrior, not just the queen. Show those conservatives just why you are the first female knight in centuries. The unique thing about you, Alanna, is your ability to cling to yourself despite your surroundings…or clothing._

"Thank you," she whispered against her cat's silky black fur. For being such a sassy kitty, Faithful was the greatest friend she'd ever had.

_No sentimentality. Forward, Sir Alan! _

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**It seems that old and new characters are just popping out of the woodwork! Let me know your favorite part and line! Thanks for reading! **


	15. The Lion

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update. This was much harder to write than I thought. Enjoy! Tamora Pierce created Tortall; I just have a lot of frequent flyer miles there! **

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**Chapter 15: The Lion**

She moved quickly towards the tower Thom occupied, but her twin met her halfway there. He looked as ill as ever, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"So, sister, when did you learn to tiptoe around the truth?" he asked.

"When did you learn to meet someone halfway?" she returned, despite the blush that crossed her cheeks.

Thom's lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. "Jon has asked me to remain in the shadows. Best not make the poor man think there are three of us."

"The two of us is too much," Alanna replied, remembering the phrase the children's nanny used to sigh whenever they had caused some new chaos. Thom threw back his head and laughed, something that warmed Alanna's heart. It looked painful for him to do it, but usually he was so cranky and sickly, anything different was a ray of hope that whatever plagued him would disappear.

Thom, ever reading her thoughts, stopped mid-chuckle. "Stop worrying about me. Worry about yourself now. You're about to face a man whose spent the last few years making himself able to beat you, while you've gone soft."

"I have not gone soft," Alanna snapped, her fact hot, knowing it was true. After all those years of conditioning and pushing herself to be better than the boys, she had let being female get to her.

"Glad to hear it. Go out there and show the ass not to mess with Trebond." Thom grabbed her shoulders. "And do not get yourself killed." Their violet gazes met and Thom pulled his sister roughly against him. "Do not get yourself killed," he repeated, his voice low and hoarse. Alanna squeezed her brother, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his skin.

"I won't," she whispered.

_She won't die_, Faithful meowed, _unless Dain gets so anxious that he stabs her at first glance. This is not a goodbye. Hurry up. _

"Just because you are opposed to others who might have attachments to Alanna, Cat," Thom said as he released his sister. "You miss the days when it was Alan and Faithful."

_You are ridiculous, Mithran Light. I just am opposed to _you_. And it was always Alanna and Faithful. _Faithful swished his tail.

Thom scowled, but motioned with his head for Alanna to leave. "I'll be watching to make sure the Tusaine doesn't have any magic trickiness up his sleeve. But first, a little bit of…" He arched his eyebrow and Alanna felt a tingling around her bruised eye. She reached up and felt no swollenness. Thom winked as his eye took on the appearance of her black eye. With one last squeeze of her hand, he turned and walked away. Alanna watched his retreating form, her heart both aching and bursting with love for her eccentric twin. She was so lucky to have so many people who cared for her. But she was all Thom had. Every swing of a sword, every throw of a punch, every shot of an arrow in her direction was another inch closer to Thom losing the only person he loved. It made her melancholy.

_None of this. You'll live to see your prissy brother again. _Alanna rolled her eyes at her pet, but made her way towards the courtyard, making promises to herself and Thom.

-x-x-x-

She entered the court, swordless. After all, Thayet had hidden Lightening. Faithful was still perched on her shoulder. Many in the court gasped, struck by her transformation back into the lad they had thought she was for so many years. Gone was the queen that had smiled and laughed and tripped her way through the evening balls. Before them stood the man that Alan would have been, if only he had been truly male.

Buri turned to Raoul, whose mouth hung so far open she could see his tonsils.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." She poked him twice, and had to repeat her statement before Raoul blinked.

"He has," whispered Gary, leaning around the big man. Buri, used to Alanna as Alanna, scowled. But from the other looks the Tortallans were giving the red-haired queen, the K'mir realized that this was something of great significance.

Dain, scowling at the floor, missed her entrance.

"Dain of Melor," Alanna said, adopting a low register to her voice. What little conversation had been floating about silenced as the nobles of Tortall leaned forward to watch their queen and Champion.

Dain's head shot up and his eyes locked on her. The intensity in his gaze was fierce and Alanna nodded her head solemnly, one eyebrow raised.

"Alan of Trebond. You may not recognize me. I—"

"I remember you," Alanna said flatly.

Dain's eyes widened at the interruption. Alanna's tone said it all. She remembered his rudeness, his lack of chivalry. His defeat.

"Then you have no doubt as to why I have come."

"Actually, sir, I have doubts. I dueled you, yes, when I was a squire. By the laws of combat, you drew the first blood. But—" Alanna held a hand up to Dain's triumphant burst. "—the laws of chivalry clearly state that once blood has been drawn, one must accept defeat, which I did. You then continued to attack me. Forced to defend myself, our duel continued until I unarmed you. You would have killed me."

Dain's shoulders rose and fell with his anger. "How dare you insinuate I would besmirch the code! You dog!"

His hand went to his sheath, ready to run Alanna through when Jonathan stood. "Sir knights, peace. Dain of Melor, it seems that you have forgotten, once again, that you are not at home. In Tortall, we wait until both knights are armed before commencing a trial by combat." Dain quickly lowered his hand. "As you can plainly see, Sir Alan is not armed. Sir Alan, may I ask why this is?"

"He dares to mock me!" roared Dain, like a bear restrained.

Jonathan cocked an eyebrow at the Tusaine. "Melor, do not forget that I was a witness at your first duel with Alan. I am not inclined to rule in your favor. Sir Alan, I repeat, where is your weapon?"

"I seemed to have left it in my chambers, my liege." Alanna looked first at Jon, but then turned her attention to the only person who would know where Lightening was: Thayet.

Jon chuckled. "Did your sister not inform you that you have been challenged to a duel?"

The court, knowing that all weapons had been hidden from Alanna, laughed with their king. Alanna even caught several conservatives struggling to contain smiles.

"She mentioned something of the sort to me, but I thought to see for myself."

"Well, as you can see, Dain of Melor, from the kingdom of Tusaine, is here."

"And very ready to cross blades with you, Sir Alan of Trebond." Dain's teeth were gritted together.

"In due time, Sir Dain," Jon told him sternly. "Why don't you lay your challenge before us, while I have Lady Thayet fetch Sir Alan's weapon? Thayet, you are familiar with Sir Alan's living arrangements, are you not?"

Thayet blushed at Jon's request, knowing that he had created an insinuation about herself and Alanna's alter-ego, but said nothing as she scurried away. Alanna knew that Jon would be in for some form of hell, and she would gladly help her friend against her mischievous husband. She remembered the mind games Jon used to play, forcing her to dance with simpering females, like Delia of Eldorne, and then accusing her of flirting with said females to keep up her pretense.

"Now, Dain, speak."

Dain gave Jon a respectful bob, before returning his gaze to the purple-eyed man. "I have come to regain my dignity. When we fought, you were but a squire. I demanded to fight the champion, but your knight master provoked me into fighting a mere _boy._"

"Before Mithros, it would appear that you have a conflict with my knight master, instead of me," Alanna suggested, motioning towards Jonathan.

"I was beaten by a squire. I have returned to challenge a knight. A true contest of talent. To prove that you have indeed bested me."

"I will oblige you, Sir Dain of Melor," Alanna replied formerly, noticing Thayet returning out of the corner of her eye. "But if you are to be so kind, pray tell me, what do you hope to prove by this trial by combat?"

"Prove myself the better knight."

Dain's and Alanna's eyes met and Alanna could hear her words ringing through her mind.

_You're lucky I'm a better 'knight' than you are..._

The unspoken remembrance burned between them. Alanna wanted to roll her eyes.

"I see, Sir Dain. I accept your challenge. Princess Thayet, my sword, if you please."

Thayet brought forward Lightening and sheath, and carefully handed it to Alanna. She could not help but frown at the light that gleamed from Alanna's eyes as she reached for her faithful blade.

The moment her fingers enclosed the handle of Lightening, she felt a power rising through her. It felt as though pure light was flooding her body, as though her Gift was replenished threefold. She turned to Jon and nodded. She was ready. Jon inclined his head, trying to hide the smile he had. Alanna was wearing that same unconscious merciless grin she had turned on Dain so many years ago. Dain swallowed, remembering.

"Both of you need to remove your shoes and should probably stretch," Jon said, his eyes on Alanna.

Alanna bent to her feet, unlacing the boots she wore. Faithful took this opportunity to alight from his perch. Timon, the same servant, rushed over with her gloves. She slipped them on, expecting him to scurry away. But he stood there, staring.

"I feel like I've gone back in time, Your Majesty," he whispered to her.

She smiled at him. "So do I. It's nice, isn't it?"

Timon only stared at her. "I…guess it is."

"Run along, there. The knight should have some room to breathe beforehand." Arram appeared next to Timon, who quickly scurried away. To Alanna, the tall man said: "And you told me that you wouldn't be dueling a foreign guest tonight."

"It wasn't on the original plan. Are you disappointed?"

"In the few short hours I've been here, you've yet to disappoint me, Your Majesty."

"Alanna, please. Or Alan for the moment."

"Alan? Think long and hard about that nom de plum?"

"It was my name for eight years."

"I'd like to hear that story."

"You haven't heard it?"

"The legends about you, Alanna, are of your doings as the first female knight in two centuries and your doings with that title. How you got your shield is still a mystery. One that I'd love to solve."

"Go ask someone else. I've better things to do than spin yarns. Why are you over here?" Alanna asked.

"Jon requested I talk to you. He would join you, but because of the long-winded diplomatic he tried to give me, he must remain over there. This particular opponent has no Gift and there is none about him. Unlike your other enemy from this morning."

Alanna rolled her shoulders, working to loosen the muscles. "Well, that's good. I can't say I'm an expert at dueling with magic."

Arram laughed at her sarcasm. "Well, good luck, Alanna."

_You'll be fine_. _Do not die. I hate growing attached to humans for them to die foolishly. _

"Love you too."

As the tall mage left, followed by her difficult cat, Alanna smiled. It would be good to have a friend like Arram around. If she survived tonight. She shook her head and continued with her warm-up. As she began to work to stretch, she watched Dain as he elaborately went through a routine that had obviously been perfected. Beads of sweat were already dripping down his face. The outcome of this match obviously was of great importance to him. He had a lot riding on it, she supposed. She shook her head as she worked her calf and thigh muscles. He was overdoing it, for one should not tire oneself out before one even got onto the field. It might be an advantage. Another advantage would be his desperation to win—but his level of preparedness might be a severe disadvantage.

With a final shake, Alanna looked to Jon whose eyes were fixed on her. She raised her eyebrows at him. Understanding, he gestured for the two opponents to take their positions.

As Alan and Dain walked, Thayet took the opportunity to whisper in Jon's ear.

"Can she do this?"

Jon didn't look up, his brain half on how warm her breath was on his ear and half on his warrior wife striding towards danger.

"I think so. Mithros willing, Goddess willing, I hope so."

Thayet, who felt it her sacred duty to worry about the monarchs simply because they didn't seem to, frowned. "She shouldn't be doing this. She's not ready."

"And whose fault is that?" Gary, overhearing, asked crossly. He did not like how close Thayet and Jon were.

Thayet's eyes snapped. "Do not blame me, Naxen. If she had had her way, she would have given birth in the middle of a battlefield."

"Alanna is more sensible than that," Buri challenged.

"We can't change the past," Jon cut in. "It would be better, for this moment, that Alanna had gotten back in shape earlier. But her talent has not left her. She will be fine."

"But will she win?" asked Alex, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Gods mote it be." Jon did not look at his cousin. Everyone shifted to face the court, both knights standing blades pointed at the ground. With each step, Alanna had felt as if she were aging backwards. She was fiddling with the lump that her stone created under her shirt as she remembered that she had done the same thing.

Jon stood, proving once and for all that the redhead had not been transported back to her squire years. Roald wasn't king; Jon was. And she was queen.

"Are you prepared?" Dain and Alanna bowed and saluted him with their swords. They turned inwards and bowed to each other, saluting the other as required. They then moved a sword's length apart. "Cross your blades." As the two shining blades touched, Alanna steadied her feet and watched Dain.

"Do honor to the laws of chivalry and to the customs of your lands. Guard!" She had only a moment to blink before Dain threw himself at her, sword swinging. To the observers, the two duelists were a blur. The blades swung so fast that it was difficult to discern whose sword belonged to whom. For Alanna, Lightening moved fluidly in her arms, moving automatically to parry Dain's blows. Her mind was left to calculate what her next moves should be.

Despite the energy she had, she knew that her muscles would not last as long as she would need them if she didn't disarm Dain quickly. But he was stronger, surer than before, and most determined to defeat her. He offered no insults, nothing but his fanatically gleaming eyes and quick movements. He was better than before, Alanna had to admit. And she was only par, if not worse, than she had been as a squire. Her muscles remembered hours working and pounding and sweating and twisting and they put this memory to good use, but she knew she was not up to a knight who had been constantly training for over four years.

Her lucky turn came when Dain got dangerously close to her ear. He had twisted his wrist, causing Alanna to lose some of her grip on Lightening. She stepped backwards to allow herself time to get a better handle back on her sword, but he lunged forward, step-in-time with her. With a yell, he swung forward. She swerved to the right, hearing his blade go whistling by. The triumphant look in his eye diminished when he realized he had missed his target. Dain's mistake came because he allowed himself to be angry. He cursed under his breath, his sword hanging from his hand. Alanna took initiative and immediately went on the attack. She hacked away at him, her sword never ceasing in a relentless drive to find a way through his defense. Dain, however, held his own against her.

Both warriors were panting now, sweating running freely down their faces. Alanna's stomach was cramping and her arms were protesting with each movement. She could tell that Dain was spent as well, but he was not going to give up. She backed away from him, to allow herself an opportunity to breathe and gather her strength and wits about her. There would be one final fury in this duel; neither could last much longer.

Dain seemed to be grateful for the moment, but decided that he could not appear so. "Tired, Trebond?" He jeered. Alanna smiled at him. Frustrated, he began to insult her: her looks, her parents, her fighting technique, her age. "You fight like a female, Trebond!" Alanna was tempted to thank him, but chose to remain silent; it was enough that the audience snickered. After all, it would not do well to break the anxiety Melor was trying to offset. However, the man's fatal mistake came in due time when as he prepared to launch himself at the short red-haired knight. He insulted her children. Mind you, it wasn't Kalasin and Thomas that he had in mind when he slighted the fruit of Alanna's loins, but any affront of the beings that were Alanna's whole world… Alanna flew out him in a rage, her mother lion instincts kicking in. Her sword seemed to dance, around and behind and over and under and through. There was no stopping her.

Jon smirked to himself. Dain had, once again, found the wrong button on his best friend and was now feeling the fury of the lioness.

Finally, panting, Alanna forced Dain backwards so fast that his feet flew out from under him and he fell onto the ground, his sword skittering away from him.

"You have had your trial by combat, Sir Dain of Melor. And you have lost. I _am _the better knight."

Dain froze, the agony of his defeat immobilizing his limbs. How could he have lost? He was right, by the gods! It had simply been luck for the little squire. But now this man… the gods must favor him beyond all others. No! How could he accept defeat so easily? With a roar, he leapt to his feet.

"This is not over, Trebond!"

He snatched up his sword and threw himself at Alanna with the same intensity she had attacked him. But now, the lioness was exhausted. Nevertheless, she threw up the best defense she could. Every thrust was met by a parry. Out of her peripheral she could see Gary, Raoul, Buri, Jon, Arram, and Thayet on their feet, yelling hoarsely. Only Alex sat calmly, watching.

Dain swung and Alanna twisted away. He lunged and Alanna blocked. Enough sweat was pouring off their bodies to have filled several pails. Alanna's strength was waning and thus, Dain was able to land a blow. His sword bit down into her right shoulder. He gave a triumphant yell, as he moved his blade into position to stab her again. Slumping to the ground, Alanna threw her elbow into his manhood, forcing him away. She scrambled to her feet, holding her arm close to her side. As last time, she was forced to switch to her left hand. It seemed that Dain was hell-bent on repeating their first encounter. Grunting from the pain, Dain charged her, but Alanna swung, parrying his blow. Both injured, both continued to meet each other's pass. The swords clanged and crashed and whistled through the air.

"This is madness," whispered Thayet, clutching her heart.

"We have to find a way to stop it," Gary agreed, reaching for his own sword. "Dain wants her dead; Alanna won't give up."

Jon did not speak, his blue gaze intense on the face of his best friend.

Alanna could feel the blood slipping from her shoulder; she winced as she dodged another blow aimed at the same spot by Melor. Her head was beginning to grow light from the exhaustion; her vision was beginning to swim. She would have been proud to know that her expression did not give it away. All Dain could see on her face was a fierce determination. Alanna gave her head a shake. She could not allow herself to give in to the weakness that was threatening to envelop her. Her heard momentarily clear, she saw an opening and swung. Dain managed to avoid most of the blow, but Lightening bit into his right bicep. The big man groaned and stepped out of her reach. He paused for a moment, during which Alanna lunged. With no choice, Dain switched hands.

Immediately, it was clear that Dain rarely used his left hand. His swings were clumsy, slow, and with less force. With an easy flick, Alanna made the Tusaine's sword to fly through the air. Dain went after it, tripping as he grabbed the blade as it clattered to the ground. He was about to leap to his feet when his eyes saw their reflection as cold steel touched his nose.

"Get up and you will die," Alanna hissed. "I have won this fight. Once again, you ignore the laws of chivalry under which you and I were given our shields." Dain clenched the sword tighter, but Alanna kicked it out of his hand. "Don't tempt me, Melor."

Dain closed his eyes and laid his head down on the floor, signaling his defeat. Alanna took her eyes off of the man to look at her friends, who had all breathed a sigh of relief. Timon approached and took Lightening from her. The audience, whose breath had been held for so long, roared their approval. Alanna smiled at her people, still trying to catch her breath. She barely registered that Dain had gotten up from the floor when she found herself making a very personal acquaintance with it.

Alex watched as Dain rushed the queen, watched as the queen went down landing on her injured shoulder, heard her scream of pain. He did not move as Raoul and Gary, with Jon at their heels, dashed over to her. With a wild yell, Raoul pulled the big knight off of Alanna and looked very much as the Raoul of old, about to deliver a thrashing to anyone that dared mess with his friends.

Jon wrapped his arms around Alanna, trying to find a way to lift her up without pulling on her arms. "Alanna, Alanna. Are you alright?" Faithful meowed, distressed, licking at Alanna's bloody hands.

"I'm fine. Just…get off my shoulder." Her face was white from pain and her eyes were shut, but Jon took her sour tone to mean she would be okay.

"Gary, send for Baird. Now."

"Here, Jonathan. Let me." Thayet knelt down next to Jon and lifted Alanna from his embrace. Carefully, she adjusted the redhead's position so that her head was in Thayet's lap and her right shoulder and arm were lying flat. Jon nodded his approval, then turned to face the Tusaine knight.

Raoul still held his arms behind his back. Dain's face was purple, mottled with rage. He opened his mouth to scream something, but Jon held up a hand. "You, sir, have nothing to say. You have lost this trial by combat. In the eyes of the gods, you are in the wrong."

"He cheated! I drew blood first!"

"But you were disarmed prior to that. Therefore, it is null and void. You have lost, Sir Dain of Melor. And you have not accepted defeat honorably."

"_I_ am the better knight! Not the little tyke with red hair and gods-cursed eyes! I will murder you, Trebond!"

Raoul rattled him until he was forced to stop. "I swear by Mithros," Raoul growled, "I'll kill _you _if you lay a hand on the, err, lion." He stopped himself from saying "Lioness" because after all this, Alanna was still Alan to Dain of Melor.

"'The lion'? That's what you call that little knight?" Dain asked in disbelief. "What has he done that is so great to be called such? Besides defeat me!"

"Haven't you heard our stories?" teased Gary.

"Stories? I've heard rumors of a Lion_ess_, some female knight that you fools gave a shield to. Blessed by the gods or something. But I've heard no stories of a lion."

Gary bent low to the defeated knight's ear, his dark eyes dancing wickedly. "There's a reason for that." Dain's brow furrowed in confusion, while Gary laughed. "Give him a minute," Gary remarked to Raoul, who despite his grin, rolled his eyes.

Jon turned and noticed Duke Baird attending to Alanna. He strode over. "Is she alright?" he asked the healer.

"She's fine. It's deep, but it did not severe muscle nor bone. It's more bruised than it should be. But that is because of the fall."

"'She'?" Alanna's eyes, which had been closed as the healer examined her, snapped open to see her opponent's jaw dropped open. "'SHE'?" repeated the astounded knight.

Slowly, Alanna pulled herself up. "Yes?"

"You lied! You said you were Alan of Trebond!"

"I am not Alan of Trebond. Alan of Trebond was my father."

"You are not who I fought!"

"In order to gain my shield, I was forced to disguise myself as a boy. Alan of Trebond was the name I used."

Dain gaped at her. In a low voice, as if he were addressing a ghost. "_Who_ are you?"

"I am Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, Knight of Tortall and King's Champion. I am also Queen Alanna of Conté."

"The queen? The woman I just danced with?"

"The same."

"Also known as the Lioness," added Gary. "Now how does that make you feel?"

"That means…that means…I…"

"You were beat by a girl!" crowed Raoul, sounding exactly like his fifteen-year-old self.

A vein in Dain's temple pulsed violently and his eyes twitched. "You all conspired to deceive and humiliate me!"

"No, you did that yourself splendidly," Jon laughed, unable to hold himself above it. "You've provided our court with a great deal of amusement."

"You." Dain fixed his bloodshot eyes on the king. "You hide behind your female squire, now you hide behind your wife. You are not the lion to this lioness. You are not a man."

Evidently Raoul and Gary were having too much fun with this situation because Raoul cried "He _can't_ hide behind her—he's too tall!"

Alanna passed out from laughing so hard.

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**Favorite line? Favorite part? Was it okay? Let me know! **


	16. The Fall of the Rogue

**Author's Note: I should probably learn how to channel the energy I have for fan-fiction into all the essays I have to write. Oh, well! Tamora Pierce is the mastermind criminal; I'm just a copy-cat (in a totally non-copyright-infringement-way). **

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**Chapter 16: The Fall of the Rogue**

Clean and fresh, Alanna made her way to Jon's chambers. When she had come to, Baird had given her a message from Jon to meet him later. She hoped that whatever he wanted to talk about would be brief. She hurt a lot, especially her shoulder. Baird had said that it wouldn't take too long to heal, but she would only be allowed to do gentle exercises.

No one returned the knock, so she pushed open the door. It appeared that Jon was not there. She rolled her eyes, and walked over to the window. She could see into the torch-lit courtyard, where the party from Tusaine was quickly saddling their horses. They had chosen not to stay on the hospitality of the queen and king, especially a queen with a bite.

She was replaying her battle with him over in her head, feeling the tiredness of her muscles. She had won again, re-proven herself in the eyes of the court. She felt empowered, ready to take on the world again—and by the world, those old conservative know-it-alls. She sighed, feeling the need to go on an adventure. To find another meaningful object, like the Dominion Jewel…which now lay in some secure chamber, unused and basically forgotten. This duel had not only brought back memories, but it had brought back her thirst for adventure, her drive for excitement, her need for life beyond Corus and skirts and titles and diplomacy.

In the window pane, she examined her re-developed black eye. Once the duel was over, Thom had removed the spell. She knew he wouldn't have kept it; he was much too vain about his looks. Anything to make him appear less than the great Master he was he treated with disdain. Looking back, she was surprised that Dain hadn't noticed it, but then again, a black eye was the least of his worries. She giggled to herself, a warm, giddy, victorious feeling washing over her.

"Alanna?"

She started and whirled around to see if the reflection in the glass was true.

George Cooper was standing in the doorway.

"George? What—what are you doing here?" She found the breath was gone from her lungs and her heart was hammering. Her eyes raked over him trying to understand why he was here. Then she saw his hand clutching his stomach and the blood he was trying to hide. "What happened? Who did this to you?" She flew to his side, helping him to sit. Her hands fluttered over him, wanting to help him, to heal him, but afraid to touch him.

"Claw. He…"

"Shh, don't talk. I need you to lean back. I'll heal you right now."

George closed his eyes and leaned back. "I shouldn't let you…Heard about Melor."

"I told you hush. You need fixing and if you're fool to come all the way here, you'll listen up."

"You can't waste your Gift on me." His eyes were closed, his face very pale. "You've got to heal."

"It's not wasting on you, you oaf!" the worried queen cried, all thoughts besides caring for her friend flown from her mind. "I'd give my life for you—"

"Don't say that," he whispered. "Don't say things that you don't mean."

"I do mean it, with all my heart," Alanna protested. She tried to meet George's eyes, but he would not look at her. "George—"

"George." Jonathan entered the room. "What happened?"

George raised his head. "Claw... attacked. Poison… Hired…doxie…to kill me. Didn't work. But…I lost."

"What do you mean you lost?" Alanna cried. Jon gave her a stern look.

"Alanna, if you're going to be hysterical, leave."

His tone was so harsh that it made Alanna's eyes water. She crossed her arms and faced her husband. "My being hysterical is the least of your worries."

Jon's glare could have killed, but Alanna refused to look away.

"Leave."

"No."

"Alanna, I said 'leave.'"

"I said 'no.'"

"As your king, I command you to obey me."

Alanna's eyes narrowed. "As your queen, I refuse. I am no longer just a knight sworn fealty. I am your wife and co-ruler. _He _is my friend, too."

George smiled faintly.

Jon scowled, very much like his teenage self. "Fine. George…"

George held up a bloody hand. "Claw… going to kill… my people… if I did not promise… to give up… Rogue." Alanna bit her lap, questions bubbling up. She contented herself with wiping the blood from his chest with a towel. "I…had no choice. Claw…is Rogue."

_Claw is Rogue_. Alanna felt her heart sink in her chest. The world was truly turning upside down. George had held the reins of the Court of the Rogue since she was eleven, he seventeen. And now it was in the hands of Claw. Or Ralon of Malven as George and Myles had discovered. It seemed like her old nemeses were just popping up all over the place.

"Alanna," Jon said softly. "I need to speak with George alone. I promise that, if he's up for it, you can speak with George again. Please."

Alanna wanted to argue, needed to argue. This was George, the one friend she had always been able to count on. She couldn't just leave him here. He'd lost so much; she needed to be here with him. She looked at George, saw his exhaustion. She looked at Jon, saw his determination.

"I'm going to get Baird."

With that, she left the room.

She intercepted Duke Baird before he was about to retire for the evening, and relayed the message that there was an injured man. The good man hurried off. Alanna followed behind, only to have the door shut in her face. She considered breaking it down, but knew the row it would cause would be great.

She tried to comfort herself pacing back and forth for about an hour, but still no one emerged. Finally, around midnight, she retreated back to her rooms. She had Midwinter gifts for Kalasin and Thomas she still needed to wrap in cloth. She proceeded to do so, wrapping and re-wrapping, so that the presents were so tightly parceled it would take the twins a good hour to discover what delights had been given to them for Midwinter.

Dawn came and went. She returned to pace outside Jon's chambers. Finally, she gave up and pounded on the door.

"Let me in, gods curse you! You can't just ignore me—"

"Stop roaring, Lioness."

She whirled around to see George leaning against the opposite wall. His shirt was open and she could see the bandaged wrapped around his chest. He held up a hand to stop her from throwing herself at him.

"I'm fine, lass. You royals have a good staff of healin' folk."

"Duke Baird of Queenscove is the finest. He already patched me up today."

"So I heard. Who put the fool idea of you tryin' t' fight a man when you've not touched a sword for months?"

"It was my own idea. He challenged me because I beat him as a squire."

"That knight? The Tusaine?" George chuckled. "Talk about comin' back to bite yer behind."

"It's Jon's own fault I fought him in the first place. It would've been bad for him if the idiot killed me."

George's expression immediately sobered. "It would've been bad for all of us if you were dead." Alanna's heart skipped a beat as he drew closer. "You cut your hair again." He reached out tentatively and fingered the short copper locks. Alanna's breath grew short as the edges of his callused fingers accidentally brushed the side of her face. Then something cold and metal touched the side of her neck. Alanna yanked her head away to look at his hand and the simple band on his fourth finger.

"You're—you're married." George nodded, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. "Well…congratulations. Who is she?"

"A city lass. Her name is Elina."

"Gods bless you both." Alanna was numb and was fighting the urge to cry. Had he felt the same way when she had married Jon? George had gotten married. The realization went down like swallowing broken glass.

"Alanna." His tone was soft, but she wouldn't look at him. She couldn't make him regret this woman because she was an idiot. She had married someone else, blindly, stupidly, but she was not allowed to feel pain that the man she had hurt had done so as well. It was only right that he had moved on. "She's not you, lass. I—"

"George, I wish you and your wife well." Her words were grossly formal. "I—I need to go."

"Don't you want to know if I'm going to recover?" His sharp tone made her look at him. His eyes were angry, bitter, hurt. Her own eyes widened at the powerful, hard emotions. Tears that appeared to be violet rose in her eyes.

"Will you live a long life, George? Have you cheated death again?"

"I have. Baird tells me that you have too. We'll both live very long lives yet, Goddess willing."

_Two very long lives, lived apart from each other_, Alanna thought.

_You are upsetting her, thief_, meowed a voice from the shadows. Faithful appeared from the shadows. He fixed his purple gaze on George and proceeded to lecture him. At least, it sounded like a lecture, an impressive one at that, but Alanna could only guess. For the first time, Faithful spoke to someone and shut her out. She knew they were speaking of her because George kept glancing at her. Finally, sick of being left out, she turned to walk away when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Alanna, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she snapped, tired and cranky. It didn't help that George was touching her bad shoulder.

"A lot of things," he whispered. His eyes were dry, but his cheeks were wet. "I'm sorry if I ever tried to tame you. You will never be tamed, my Lioness." With a kiss on the cheek, he smiled. "If I remember correctly, it's your turn to walk away from me."

Alanna stared at him, willing her feet to run. "I…I can't." She couldn't turn her back on this man that she loved with her whole being. She had turned her back on him one too many times; her time with him was too precious.

George groaned, wishing to catch her up in his arms and carry her far away from this place. But his life had gone downhill and he would now have to find a place in his now-upside-down world. He may have promised Claw that he would not challenge him for the kingship, but he would be damned before he let Claw rule the downtrodden of the City. He'd find a way to get rid of Ralon of Malven, for safety of his own family and for the safety of the redheaded woman before him. Faithful had called him a thief, but Alanna was more a thief. She had stolen his heart and he just could never get it back.

"Try, lass. I'm sure you can. It's my turn to be someone new."

Alanna's heart felt as if he had stabbed it. She had become a queen and now he was no longer a king.

"Good luck, George," was all she managed to say before he walked away.

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**I'm not terribly fond of this chapter, but it's necessary. What do you think? **


	17. Secret Conversations

**Author's Note: I apologize that both this one and the last one were relatively short chapters. However, do I make it up for it in that I've updated three times in the last 24 hours? I have been unable to do anything else. My philosophy work is feeling horribly abandoned. **

**Tamora Pierce is the major deity in this universe; I am a very tiny, insignificant being striving for god-hood. **

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**Chapter 17: Secret Conversations **

**April 442 H.E. **

Delia of Eldorne paced in front of the Duke Roger of Conté. "I am so tired of pandering to that…that… she-male! Day and night, she's either chasing her children or chopping blocks of wood with her sword! And I have to sit there and make nice because _she_ is the gods-cursed queen!"

"You've made it a frequent exercise to stay in Eldorne of late, Delia," Roger observed calmly.

Delia's delicate white skin took on a rose color. "I apologize, Master. I have not found a reason to remain in company with …_her_. She reveals nothing to the ladies-in-waiting. We are more the ladies of that foreign warlord's daughter more than we are Alanna's. The foreign barbarian is more a lady than a true-blood Tortallan."

"You must remain in Corus for the present, my dear."

"Master, have you a task for me?" Emerald eyes bright, she threw herself to her knees before his chair.

"Just become part of the woodwork. Do not draw undue attention to yourself. Since you decided to take Josiane into our confidence, keep a tight leash on her. I do not share the same trust you seem to have in the princess from the Copper Isles."

"Master, please forgive me if I was wrong to include her. I thought her a useful tool for you. Her family is renowned for its violence and insanity. I thought her a useful scapegoat."

"It was a good thought, pretty one," Roger said as he patted the girl's hair. "I will consider it. As long as the madness works in our favor." Delia turned her head to kiss Roger's palm as the door opened. In strode Alex of Tirragen. Roger casually raised his eyebrow. Alex shut the door behind him.

"Ralon has secured the Rogue."

Delia gave a delighted cry, her beautiful face looking happily at her master, whose face remained curiously indifferent.

"I'm not even sure whether I care about the bloody Rogue or a disgraced noble set on petty revenge."

Alex nodded. "Your Grace, if Ralon controls the Lower City, then when the time to strike comes, the Lord Provost and the Guardsmen will be too busy preventing riots to interfere."

"I see. And the former leader?"

"A cityman, by the name of George Cooper. Alive, but sworn to live out the rest of his days and never interfere again. Ralon threatened his pregnant wife."

"Ah, men. So easy to influence with women. Only those who remain above the influence are truly men."

Disliking the turn of the conversation, Delia pouted. "Master, when do we put this plan into action? When will you sit on your rightful throne?"

Alex rolled his eyes, while Roger responded. "Patience, my dear. Our plans for the coronation failed when our dear cousin decided to marry our darling Lioness. And that botched attempt with Stone Mountain did nothing; it was a waste of my energy, channeling Trebond's Gift and all. He's shaking in fear and can't remember a thing; luckily, there's no suspicion been thrown our way. Now we must wait for a time when no one will suspect. When it seems that peace and harmony is finally settling. I do not want the people to think that Jon is cursed when we take the throne. I want them to know that through my efforts, with no outside influence, the crown was placed on my head. For now, the fools are still enjoying the stupid Tusaine's defeat. But the older generation has already returned to mumbling about her parenting skills. The most recent uproar is over the little princess."

"What has the little bitch done now?" asked Delia cruelly.

Alex spoke up. "Kalasin is very much her parents' daughter, willful and disobedient. Her brother flat-out told several Councilors that his sister would be a knight. They think Alanna's already put the idea into Kalasin's head and they think that Thom is being trained to accept this sort of abomination."

Delia spat, her face ugly. "I don't know why they don't just overrule her."

"Because the people love her. As much as I hate to admit it, Alanna's proven herself a good queen. She actually listens to the people and she is determined to learn. The people like that she is obviously human, with her flaws, but she is also a legend, and who wouldn't be proud of someone like her as a queen?" Alex answered. "Jon, too, has proven himself worthy as a leader. I think they are a mismatched pair, but Tortall needs their leadership. I think Alanna has worn herself out trying to fulfill both duties as queen and Champion."

Scowling, Delia tossed her hair. "So what if they've done a good job? Master," she turned her adoring gaze on him, "You would have done better."

Roger sighed, ignoring the girl's compliments. "I am tired. Today's work was draining." He gave Delia a meaningful look. Immediately, she leapt to her feet.

"Copying the tales of Miachi and Zefrem exhaust you, now?" asked Alex.

Roger stopped and looked at his once-squire. "Delia," he said without looking at her. "Go into the bedroom. I will be there in a minute." Delia complied, frowning. She closed the door behind her.

"You know," Roger stated, rather than asked.

"I do. I know both."

"Both?" They were whispering, though the closest person was Delia, who was separated by a heavy door.

"You may be copying down the manuscripts Lord Thom of Trebond asks you to, but you are doing more than that. There's a reason he moves slower, why he must be pushed to perform magic."

Roger blinked, his face calm. "If Trebond would only read, he would know that he could save himself by using his Gift. The more he uses, the less is available to me. What else have you deduced, my clever squire?"

Alex gestured with his head towards the bedroom. "You have them all thinking you are going to become king. Will you not tell them that their plans will be ripped apart like this kingdom?"

The handsome duke's eyebrows shot up. "You always were such a bright learner." Alex accepted the compliment with a bow, but did not respond. "Will I tell them? No. Their schemes lay in material things. Ralon wants revenge for the beating he believes ruined his life. Josiane wants revenge for not being chosen. Delia wants power…and me. All so material, all so fleeting. But I, I am the first man to return from the grave. By destroying this nation, I will become immortal—a part of history. And history is written down and kept forever."

"A king is written in the history books."

"But there are many kings. How many destroyers of kingdoms are there? Yes, there is an element of me that does not like to share. If I can't have it, no one else should. But I prefer to think of this more glorious ideal. And you," Roger looked curiously at the young man. "You do not desire the physical. You want that intangible knowledge that you are better. That you are best. It consumes you. You will be written down in history with me, Alexander of Tirragen. When the world shakes, when the earth rips in two, when the sky appears to fall, you shall be the best and I will live forever. And now," Roger's eyes lost their maniacal look, "I have some company I'd like to enjoy." He winked at Alex and entered the bedroom.

Alex stood still for a moment, watching after his former-knight master had disappeared to his pleasure. He smiled briefly, his lips twitching in a feral smile as he turned and left the room.

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**I had to include a little bit of an inside look at what the bad guys are cookin' up. How was it? I can't promise the next chapter will come as quickly as these last three. **


	18. Or Forever Hold Your Peace

**Author's Note: I wish my name was Tamora Pierce and I could own a whole kingdom named Tortall with these incredible characters that I could create. Pity I don't have a fairy godmother. **

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**Chapter 18: Or Forever Hold Your Peace **

**August 444 H.E.**

"Mama! Where are we going?"

Alanna smiled at the twins. "We're going to visit Grandda and Grandma."

"Hooray!" cried Thom and Kally, easily appeased. Visiting their grandparents was always a treat, for both them and their mother. Alanna had planned this day, for their fourth birthday. They did not squirm as they were lifted onto the horses, Thom to sit in front of Coram, and Kally to sit in front of her mother. Alanna looped one arm around her daughter to hold her steady. It was difficult to sit straight forward while having to appear as if her saddle was a side-saddle. Her skirts fanned over the side of the horse, who wasn't Moonlight. But underneath, she wore breeches and sat astride. She'd perfected the skill of hiding it after the twins were born.

"You'll be back before sunset? Jon wants to have a birthday feast." Alanna nodded at Gary and squeezed the horse's flanks to get him moving. He was a gentle gelding, meant for dainty court ladies. But she did not argue with the choice of horse, knowing that she wouldn't be allowed to leave the courtyard if she fought it.

Kally chattered happily as she clutched the saddle horn, asking questions about what they'd do once they reached her grandparents' house. Myles and Eleni still lived in the city, though Eleni was removed from the rough and tumble section she'd lived in before. Alanna enjoyed visiting them here, as one enjoys a drink of water in the desert. The children could play, unwatched, and she could relax. Only today, she wasn't going to relax.

She grinned slightly, as she thought of the bundle tied to her back.

"I didn't think I'd be doin' this again, 'cept fer my own young'uns," grumbled Coram. He'd finally returned from watching over the Trebond fief. With her brother being rendered so weak and Coram's replacement getting caught embezzling, Coram had been sent back to oversee. He'd fought it, but had consented when Rispah had offered to accompany him. The gruff man had succumbed to the idea, and the two had spent the past years training an apprentice (an honest apprentice) in each other's company and in the company of their first child, Thomsen.

"You're glad of it, Coram. And think, this set of twins won't try to trick you."

"They better not," he replied.

"Ma, what do you mean? Who tried to trick Coram?" asked Thom.

Alanna giggled. "Your uncle Thom and I did. And we pulled it off, too."

"Did not. Ye only got as far as the first night's travel," Coram protested.

"That was far enough, wasn't it?"

"What happened?" piped Kally.

"Th' upstarts switched places on ole Maude an' me, when we was t' take them t' school. 'Cept Maude was in it th' whole time, she was."

Alanna laughed. "That's one way of looking at it. Kally and Thom, my father—no, not Grandda. My father was Lord Alan of Trebond, and my ma died giving birth to your Uncle Thom and I. Father was so sad about losing our ma that he couldn't take care of himself, much less a pair of twins. When we were ten, we were told we would be sent away. Uncle Thom was to go to Corus and become a knight. I was to go to the City of the Gods to be taught in the convent of the Daughters. Except neither of us wanted that. I wanted to become a knight and Uncle Thom wanted to be a sorcerer. So we made a plan that I would come to Corus and Uncle Thom would go to the City of Gods for sorcerer training. We got our old nursemaid, Maude, to help us."

"_Our_ Maude?" asked Kally eagerly.

"Yes, your Maude," Alanna laughed.

"Maude had taught us how to use our magic and she said that she would aid us. So right before we left, she cut my hair short and Uncle Thom put on a dress." Here both children giggled. The thought of cross Uncle Thom as a little boy in a dress amused them greatly. "I went with Coram, and Uncle Thom went with Maude. After the first day, Coram realized that I wasn't Thom. He wanted to turn back around, but I convinced him not to. And so we came to Corus, and I was thought to be a boy."

"Called Alan!" The twins had heard the rest of the story, of how their mother had fooled everyone to thinking she was a boy, and worked hard, and made friends with Jonathan and Uncle Raoul and Uncle Gary and someone named George that they'd never met and Faithful and Aunt Thayet and Aunt Buri and Grandda and Grandma and all the adventures.

"Yes, called Alan," Alanna smiled. It was odd to hear that name again, to be honest. But she was glad that her children were proud of her. Kally especially enjoyed hearing about her mother could best all the boys, and asked for those tales often.

The children pestered Coram for stories of what their mother and uncle had been like when they were their age, and Coram told them of the time Alanna and Thom had stolen tarts from the kitchen and gave the tattle-telling cook hallucinations of lions. He was halfway through the story of how the children's godmother had tried to get old Lord Alan to marry her and how Alanna and Thom had made her believe the Trebond manor was haunted when they arrived at the gate of Myles' town house.

Eleni was at the door to greet them, and covered her grandchildren with kisses. Myles gave the twins a bear hug before giving their mother a kiss on the cheek.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked kindly, noting the new lines appearing on his daughter's face.

"I'm well," she replied, smiling. "How are you and Eleni?"

"She's more beautiful every day," Myles sighed, glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye. Eleni heard him and blushed.

"Don't listen to him," she told her step-daughter. "He's as barmy a coot as always."

Myles grunted, but his eyes were merry. "Barmy I may be, but that's not what you said last night."

"My ears! My ears!" Alanna covered her ears with her hands. "I don't want to hear about it."

"Leave her alone, dear," Eleni laughed, linking her arms through her husband's. "The twins are already inside, and Goddess only knows what they've gotten themselves into."

They went into the house as Moonlight was attended by Myles' manservant. Coram nodded his head, reminded Alanna he would be back before sunset, and made his way back to the palace and Rispah.

The twins were engaged in some sort of game of their making, involving a tapestry, a bug, a shoe-horn, Kally's rope-belt, and Thom's shoe. Eleni gathered them up, and began to escort them outside for a picnic lunch.

"Coming, my dear?" asked Myles, offering her his arm. Alanna shook her head.

"I—I have to use the privy."

"I'll wait for you then."

"Oh no, you really don't have to. Go on," Alanna urged. She planned to change into her disguise and then slip out of the house unnoticed. She had quite forgotten that her father was Jon's new spymaster.

"I insist."

Sighing, Alanna hurriedly changed into the clothes she had brought with her. They were simple enough: plain breeches, jerkin, shirt, shoes. Most importantly was her cap, to hide her hair. Satisfied that unless anyone looked closer at her eyes they would not know that their queen and Champion passed them by, Alanna cautiously poked her head out of the chamber. No one seemed about. She closed the door quietly and began to tiptoe towards the door. Myles must have given up waiting for her. She was but a few feet from the door, when she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

"I'm assuming then that you are not staying today." Alanna turned bright crimson. Myles raised his shaggy eyebrows. "And what do you have that's so important that you'll leave your parents and children? And wearing those clothes?"

Alanna sighed. "Myles, I need to get out. I just need…to be away from it all. I love you and Eleni and the twins, but I miss being just myself. I didn't need an armed guard to walk through my city, and now…" She shrugged helplessly.

Myles smiled, understanding in his eyes. "Well, Jon would have my head if he thought I'd seen you sneak out and do nothing about it." He winked and strolled away down the corridor, towards the sound of happy children. "But," he called over his shoulder without turning around, "if I don't _see_ you sneak out, then how could our most gracious king be mad at me?"

Alanna grinned as she slipped out the door. A cool breeze brushed her face gently, relieving the heat from the summer sun. Knowing that the guards had only just turned their backs on the house, she snuck down the road towards the heart of the market.

After two or three city blocks, she let herself relax and began to look about her. The city looked relatively the same, but she felt a new possessiveness about it. After all, she was queen of this city, this nation. Before she had thought she loved Corus, with its smells and its people and its sights and its sounds. But now that she knew just what it took to keep this town from crumbling into dust, there was a new emotion for it.

She dithered about here and there, buying apple-raisin patties, admiring the swords displayed in front of the forge. She remembered her first afternoon in the city, where she had gaped at everything and Gary had teased her. She laughed a bit to herself at the memory, back when she was Alan and life held so much mysteries and surprises around the corner.

What could she have said to her ten-year-old self, had the same purple-eyed disguised lass appeared in front of her, as she felt almost certain it could? Would she have told the child of her hard-fought path, and the victory at the end? Would she have spoken of Jon and their marriage? Would she tell the girl she would someday become queen of all she surveyed?

Alanna shook herself of the wistful thoughts, and soaked herself into the pulse of Corus. She passed the Dancing Dove longingly, but didn't dare enter. If the new Rogue recognized her, it would be bad. Even if George was still "Majesty" of the Rogue Court, she wasn't certain she could set a foot in there. So she continued, meandering among the people and market stalls.

She approached one stall where she saw intricately-designed wooden swords. She was drawn to them knowing her children would love them. She fingered one with intricate vines on the hilt, imagining Thom's delight when he unwrapped it on his birthday.

"An' what, good sir, can I do fer ye t'day?"

It was Alanna's turn, and she was startled for a second to be called 'sir.' But she recovered quickly and adopted a deeper tone to her voice.

"Yes," she said, keeping her eyes down, "I'd like to see about buying presents for my little ones."

The seller relaxed, as those do when people speak of their children. "How olds are yer little ones?"

"Four, a lad and a lass."

"Gods bless 'em an' ye," the woman intoned politely, before getting down to business. "Th' lass like pretty things?"

Alanna laughed. "She does, but she enjoys bashing her brother's head in just as much."

The woman cackled, and reached for something behind her. She showed Alanna a sword whose blade simmered as if it were metal, but it was only mage-spelled to look it. The hilt was a beautiful blue-purple color.

"It's beautiful, mistress," Alanna breathed. "Kally would love it."

"Yer daughter has th' same name as th' princess, gods bless her." The woman looked closer at Alanna. The red-shot eyes were shrewd, though the vocal tone was casual. "An' yer eyes. They be as purple as th' queen's, Goddess save _her_."

Alanna felt a tinge of panic, but held her own. "Nay, mistress. My daughter's name is Kally, but her given's name is the same as her ma's…Katalina. As for my eyes, well… I've a touch of Trebond in me. My mother was a distant cousin to the old Lord Trebond. Got none of the gold, but I got the eyes." Alanna hated lying, but what could she do? It would not do for the stall's owner to be shouting down the street that the queen herself purchased wares from her, especially with the queen still present. "I've heard it enough times from passersby."

The eyes stayed on Alanna's face, but the woman relaxed. "Pity ye can't work yer way int' th' queen's good graces? But th' lad? A present fer yer son as well?"

"George is his name," Alanna smiled, trying to put the suspicion the seller surely still held. "He'd want something more…tough. Manly."

The woman produced a sword similar to the other, mage-spelled as well, but this looked like a smaller version of the beautiful swords dangling from the forge down the way. There were no decorations or anything remotely unfeminine. Thom would think he'd gotten a real sword…until he smacked it too hard and it splintered.

"He'd love this," Alanna smiled again. "I'll take them both."

"Anythin' fer yer dears t' hold 'em in? They can splinter after a while."

The sheaths that the woman gestured toward were beautiful, inlaid with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. Alanna itched to run her hands on the leather, knowing that her children would be clamoring for them if they stood by her side now. But she knew that only rich merchants and nobles and royalty could afford these _and _the swords.

Alanna shook her head. "No, mistress. I cannot afford more, as much as I wish. Have you any plainer?"

The suspicious seller provided a box of cheap leather sheaths from beneath the cart. "These be free, take two fer yer young'uns."

Alanna paid the woman and took the wrapped toys. She turned, all right in her world, when she realized that someone else was attached to her. She looked up into the brown face of a cityman, whose hand was fist-deep in her purse.

Immediately Alanna began to shriek, forgetting her man's voice. She also threw her elbow up and smacked him right between the eyes. Stunned, the pickpocket withdrew his hand and turned and ran away, clutching at least a third of the coins Alanna had been carrying. The crowd that had witnessed the theft grumbled against thieves and laughed about how high a man could scream when startled.

"You shouldn't roar so loudly, Lioness. Or people'll know 'tis the queen who's been pick-pocketed."

Alanna spun, hand going to her belt where she had concealed several knives. "Who exactly do you think you are?" she demanded to the person who had laid their hand on her shoulder.

"An old friend of yours, lass."

She recognized the twinkling hazel eyes of George Cooper.

Her heart lurched. She almost threw herself into his arms, but checked herself. Queens couldn't do such things, even when excited to see their old friend.

"How are you?" she cried, drinking in the sight of him. He was just as tall as ever, and still lean and fit. His hair was streaked with gray, which surprised her, because she knew he wasn't _that _old. Also startling were the deep lines on his face.

"As well as could be. And you, Your Majesty?"

"Stop it!" she scolded. "Don't call me that."

"As you wish, my queen." He gave her a pretty little mock-bow, before directing her away from the people in case they overheard their conversation.

"I said stop," she said crossly. "You already said it wouldn't do for people to realize who I am."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, giving her his familiar grin.

"How did you recognize me?" Alanna demanded as George took the packages from her arms.

He tapped his forehead. "My Sight still tells me when you're about. But I knew ye before you were a lass or a knight or queen," he reminded her. "I knew ye before ye donned skirts."

That sounded suspiciously like Alanna's heart when she had argued that George had loved her without seeing her in skirts, unlike Jonathan, but she pushed that nasty thought away.

"I forgot," she said simply. "How are you? How's life without the Rogue? How's your wife?"

George's face stayed in his smile, but lines deepened around his eyes and Alanna could almost detect his shoulder slumping.

"I'm doin' just as well as could be expected, lass."

Alanna gave him a look that said she wouldn't accept that answer.

"T' tell th' truth, lass, I don't like not being useful. I almost miss bein' Rogue, but with the way it's going, the city's rotting from the inside out. Claw's no proper king."

Alanna knew that, well enough. Jon had spent many late nights trying to figure out how to restore order now that people neither trusted King or Rogue. Rogue kept the people together, proper-like. With one who didn't care one whit, the downtrodden were panicking.

"Perhaps if you had gone to Jon, he could have found you something."

George gave her a queer look. "Jon offered me to be spymaster."

Alanna furrowed her brow. "Are you?"

George gave her a sidelong glance and shook his head. "Jon didn't tell you?"

It was Alanna's turn to shake her head. "He never breathed a word." Anger loomed on her brow, but she pushed it away. Jon had good reason not to tell her, and she would accept that. For now.

"Well, tell me what you've been doing in the city? What sorts of work?"

George looked side to side. "I'll not be spillin' details in the ear of the woman who sits on the throne. Not even if you pout at me like that. Let's just be sayin' that I'm working to take down this false Rogue. Secret-like, for it's my head and the head of my little ones if I challenge him outright."

"You've little ones?" Alanna asked, grasping the topic with both hands.

George had a real smile on his face, then. "That I do. My wife has given me my pride and joy. Evin's the eldest, but his sister Eilie is naught but a year younger. And Elina's expecting our third come spring."

"Congratulations!" Alanna cheered, though her heart was half in it. Evin and Eilie. Pretty names, she reckoned. Probably pretty children. A picture rose in her mind of a boy and a girl, both with George's quick hazel eyes…and her copper hair. Alanna forced that image away. She wouldn't trade her raven-haired children for the world…even if they could have been George's.

George thanked her proudly as any da would. They continued to meander along, up one street and down another, talking as they hadn't talked in years. At times the conversation was forced, but Alanna knew that this minimal dab of awkward was lucky. She reminded herself over and over that her former romantic feelings for him were over.

That stirring in her stomach meant nothing. That twang in her heart meant nothing. The weak feeling in her knees when he accidentally brushed her arm meant nothing.

But what meant _something_ was that, once they were passed that first awkward stage, how easily they slipped back into being friends and confidantes. Alanna expressed her feelings of frustration as the Council of Lords tried harder and harder to drag Thomas and Kalasin away from their "unnatural" mother, especially Kally. When she explained that they didn't want a second Lioness, George's face grew dark and he shared in her indignation. But as a former king, he knew the delicacy of maintaining a balance. For Jon and Alanna, they had to remember that Corus wasn't built in a day, and George had had to remember that the Dancing Dove wasn't built in a day. George talked of how he felt useless, and how going straight hadn't necessarily made him happier. He confessed that he had always thought getting out of the Rogue would have been cleaner, how he planned to pass the throne to Marek Swiftknife and slip away from the whole business the same way he had snuck up on the Rogue King before him. He chose not to mention that he had planned to go when he had settled down with a certain red-haired knight.

They talked and talked and talked, of light things and dark things. The only subject they never touched was that of their own intertwined path, of their love. It was better that way, Alanna knew. She could still enjoy George's company the way it used to be before he'd gone and kissed her and tilted her world upside down.

"Goddess," she swore when she saw the sky streaked with orange and pink and purple. "I'm in trouble now."

"What for? Not wearin' silk today?" George teased.

"No," she scowled, giving him a playful shove. "I'm supposed to be back at the palace with Kally and Thom now."

"Even the queen's got a curfew, eh?"

"More like a leash, but what can I do?" she shrugged.

George did not respond to this, but she could hear his voice in her head. _You could fight it, lass. _They neared Myles' house, and Alanna could hear the faint bubbling of childish laughter.

"Well, here you are."

"Here I am."

They stared at each other, not sure of what to say. Neither wanted to leave, but they knew they'd need to move eventually.

"Well, I'd best head home. Elina'll be wantin' me to help make supper and put th' young'uns to bed."

"Oh, I suppose you'd better hurry. Pregnant women have worse tempers than angry lionesses."

George laughed. "We've heard the stories about you, lass."

"All tales. Believe none of it. I was meek as a lamb."

"And as round as a bear."

Alanna laughed, a great belly-shaking laugh. She hadn't laughed this way in a long time, and yet today, she could barely stop. He handed her the presents she'd bought for her children and she looked up at his face wistfully. "Oh, George. It was wonderful to see you." She hugged him impulsively. It was only meant to be a good, hard hug, to thank him for his friendship, but when his arms went about her, she never wanted to move again. A distant, high-pitched squeal from one of her children told her that she'd have the scolding of a lifetime if they weren't behind the palace walls once more. Reluctantly, she moved away.

"Please say you'll come visit soon. I've missed you," she begged.

George's face was cautious. "I don't…know that I can do that," he admitted, as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"If you can't come to the palace, we'll come here to Myles'. I want to see you more often."

"Alanna, it's not that I don't want to see you…" he began.

"What is it?" She frowned. Why was he being so difficult?

"I just…don't think I could handle it." His words came all out in a rush. "It's been more than a year without seeing you, and in less than a day, I've fallen in love with you all over again."

Alanna could not find any words and stood staring at him. George's face was unwavering. He'd never been one to regret what he'd said. Even, now, she felt his words in her bones. She was surprised that he loved her still, but what shocked her more was the thumping of her own heart. She had felt feeling for him trill through her all day, but had kept it inside, pretending it didn't exist.

George turned to go, to hurry home to his wife, the woman Alanna envied above all others. _This could be your last time seeing him_, her mind told her. _Say something or forever hold your peace_.

"George!" she called. He turned around. He had only gotten a few feet, but Alanna closed the distance, wanting to be as near to him as possible. Her heart beat wildly as they stared at each other. Former Rogue to Former Knight.

"Yes?"

Alanna had forgotten that she'd wanted to say something.

"I just want you to know… I—I made the…biggest mistake of my life saying yes to someone besides you."

His eyes widened, but she turned and ran away before she could see any other reaction. Before she could say anything else.

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**Well? What do you think? Let me know! **


	19. Again

**Author's Note: According to the **_**modus ponens**_** form of a logical argument, if **_**p**_** therefore **_**q**_**. If **_**q**_**, then **_**p**_**. If I write stories about Alanna of Trebond and Olau, therefore I own her. If I own her, then I write stories about her. Unfortunately, while this argument is valid, it is not true. ****Tamora Pierce owns. **

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**Chapter 19: Again **

**Late October 444 H.E. **

Despite her children's begging, Alanna did not take them to visit Grandda again for the rest of that month, or the next. For two reasons. One, she wasn't sure she wanted the chance to run into George again. Two, she was being punished. It was like being a page all over again. Only instead of just punishments being doled out, the Councilors had limited her time with her children. They told her that they needed to start their schooling, Thom as a knight and future king, and Kally as the future wife of a king.

Alanna was howling angry, at the Council, at herself, and at her husband. Where was he when she needed him to step in and say something? Their children were _four_, for the Goddess' sake! Where were Jon's pretty speeches about how they would shake up the conservatives? Sure, Jon had made changes. There were now established schools for common children. Girls were permitted to try for their shield (not that any had come yet). Under Raoul, the King's Own had become a true fighting force, and was gaining members—they'd started a Second Company; it was not just a place for second sons to lounge about anymore. Negotiations with neighbors were often successful—Maren, Sarain, Tyra, Tusaine, even the Copper Isles. Even slavery was abolished officially.

But could her own daughter be allowed the _option _of becoming a knight? No.

Alanna had had to lie to fulfill her dream of a shield, and now as queen, she felt that girls everywhere should have the choice. She knew that lots of girls had no interest in wielding swords, but there were some that did. Shouldn't they be allowed the option the same way men did? Yes, oldest sons were expected to win their shield, but look at her father! Lord Alan hadn't touched a sword after he wasn't required to, preferring his scrolls. Why couldn't girls chose between being the female warrior and nobleman's wife? They could do both!

Hiding her anger and impatience from her children was hard, harder even than hiding it from Jon and the courtiers…Not that she made any real effort to hide it from Jon. Jon, by now, had learned how not to notice. They had had a falling out when she had returned late from the twins' visit to Myles and Eleni. Jon had discovered that she had snuck out, though he wasn't aware who she had encountered. They had barely managed to remain civil during the twins' birthday feast and hadn't spoken for a week. They had managed to return to a friendly manner towards each other, but nothing had been discussed and nothing had been solved. Alanna knew she needed to patch things up with her husband, but couldn't force herself to do it. Rumors were whirling that the king and queen no longer shared a bed. This wasn't completely untrue, because they were given separate chambers as most royal couples were. It wasn't completely true either, because just the other night, both Jon and Alanna had gotten rather drunk, rather undignified of both of them, and one thing had led to another…

It disturbed Alanna that she had drank so much, but she had been forced to sit through a lecture on how the queen-other should behave—and how she wasn't doing so well. Jon had sat through more negotiations with the Copper Isles, with the Princess Josiane shooting him murderous looks. Jon was half-convinced that she had put a love potion in his wine and that's why he got drunk and amorous so quickly. Alanna was getting desperate to patch things up with Jon, because she knew that if he wasn't on her side, she could lose a lot of ground that she had gained. And her encounter of George had left her feeling alone and unloved.

Alanna had no one to talk to, for Jon had sent everyone on errands—Numair, Gary, Raoul, even Alex. Faithful had disappeared for a rendez-vous with his fellow stars.

To keep herself distracted, she took the twins riding in the courtyard and the surrounding pastures. Both enjoyed watching the pages and squires train, asking questions about what it was like when Mother did it.

Alanna hated being called "Mother," but it was unheard of for a prince or princess of the blood to call their mother something as common as "ma"! In private, however, the twins still called her "mama" and it warmed Alanna's heart.

Thom took seriously the idea of knighthood, and knew that he would follow in his parents' footsteps in a few years, and relished the idea. He loved to play knight, but was always disappointed when his sister refused to play the damsel in distress. Kally would argue that Alanna had never been rescued like that, and Thom should be the damsel. Refusing to pretend to be anything so sissy, Thom would pick up his wooden sword and run at Kally, only to be blocked by her sword.

There was something to be said for being the heirs to parents, both renowned for their tempers.

Thom loved the ponies, but like his namesake, was interested in the magic aspect of it. He tried talking to his beloved Carlos, but Carlos never answered back. Kally loved leaping onto her pony, Sparkle (for all her knightly interest, she was still very much a four-year-old girl) and charging anything, from chickens to Roger. However, _that_ incident got pony privileges taken from the little girl. Despite the large amount of distrust of the duke, King Roald had reinstated him as nobility, and for the crown princess to almost run him over was unacceptable. Alanna believed that it was because Kally had called herself Lady Knight Kalasin. The Council did not want Kalasin to follow in her mother's footsteps, and such an early sign was feared.

Exhausted from arguing to get the pony back, Alanna stomped off and found herself climbing the north tower. She wasn't sure when she decided she'd visit Thom, but now seemed the best time. Thom had taken residence in the tower, high above the rest of the court.

Alanna hadn't visited Thom in a rather long time. It was hard for her to be with him for long periods. Her brother was more tired than before. His skin was whiter than a ghost and his formerly bright copper hair looked sandy and his purple eyes are bloodshot. The lines on his face had deepened so that that he looked old enough to be Alanna's father. Indeed, he was starting to resemble the old Lord Alan.

"The queen has graced us with her presence, Master," sneered Roger as Alanna pushed open the door. _Mithros_! Alanna had hoped not to find him here. She should have figured that this was where he was, because of his attachment to her brother. As always, Alanna felt a twinge of irritation that her brother had been so easily goaded into bringing Roger back from the dead.

"The queen banns your presence, Duke Roger."

"Tsk, tsk. Such a tongue. Usually a queen has much lovelier manners."

"Usually people stay dead. Now leave."

Roger bowed low to her, but his sneer told her he did not believe she deserved it.

"Sister dear, you mustn't lose your temper with him. It only goads him on," Thom sighed. "Reminding him that you killed him doesn't help either."

"I can't seem to help it. Whenever he appears, all those little lessons on how to keep my mouth shut are nothing."

"Probably should have gone to the City of Gods then."

"Oh, and you'd have preferred hitting people with sticks?" she teased back.

"No. I suppose not. So why have you decided to humble yourself and visit my lowly self?"

"Oh stop it, Thom. I miss you, and I wanted to talk."

"_I_ don't want to talk."

"You don't even know what I wanted to talk about."

"Yes, I do. You want to talk about figuring out what's made me like this, and you're considering going to the City for that old Si-cham. I'm not stupid, you know." Alanna bit her lip. It _was_ one of the things she'd wanted to talk about. "But I shan't oblige you, even if you are queen. I don't want to talk about it."

"Thom…"

"No. Grant a dying man his wish. Let's talk about my nephew and niece. Have they started training in their Gift?"

Alanna sighed. "Not yet. I wanted to have someone like Maude teach them, the way we were taught, but Jon won't hear a word of it. He wants to bring in all sorts of instructors and I think that it's all just a bother. Let them discover it themselves before they really have to learn about it."

"Is there doubt they are Gifted? I told you, I know they are. I just have to touch their hands to know—"

"No, there isn't. But _we_ were Gifted, and we didn't know it when we were babies."

"I realized my Gift when I was three, thank you very much."

"Yes, O precocious one, but I didn't until I was eight."

"That's because Father didn't want us to know about it. He hated it."

"Even so."

"The twins are very powerful, because of you and Jon."

"I know."

"You don't really care about this, do you?"

"I do, but it's so hard to watch them learn about magic. It's hurt me so often; I just don't want them to go through it, too."

"Oh, mothers. What a sentimental lot you are. Thank goodness I haven't sired any children."

"No, they'd all be prigs like you."

Thom laughed and patted her hand. However, he quickly pressed his palm to the top of Alanna's hand and gasped.

"Thom? What is it? Are you in pain?" Alanna grabbed his hand in both of hers, concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just—"

"It's just what? Shall I fetch a healer? I think Baird's—"

"Alanna, you're pregnant."

"What?" Alanna, half-risen from her seat, sat back down with a thud.

"You're pregnant."

"How—how do _you_ know?"

"Do you doubt me?" Thom demanded.

Alanna began to breathe heavily, panic searing up her body. She couldn't be having another baby. She'd already had two, and that had been painful enough. And not after what had happened not long ago… She shook that thought away. She'd provided the kingdom with an heir _and_ a princess. And now, this new baby. How soon before the Council would begin to wean it away from her? Would they take it and give it to a mid-wife immediately?

"Alanna, what's wrong?" Thom now wiped her brow, his red-and-purple eyes worried.

"I can't—I can't! I don't know how—"

"Well, sister, I didn't think you still needed the birds and the bees talk."

"No, no, no! I just…Thom, how can I bear it if they try to turn this child against me too?"

"They haven't turned Thom and Kally against you, have they?"

"No, but they're trying. Kally cannot be in my presence without the supervision of a nurse!"

"It's a pity you can't just chop all their heads off."

"Be serious, Thom," she snapped.

"I'm sorry." Gently, he wrapped his too-hot arms around his sister. She let her cheek rest on his shoulder, alarmed at how thin it was.

"Riddle me this, then. Why are you still sleeping with Jon if you've done your duty by producing two healthy children? That's the only way you've gotten into this situation. Was it a one-night thing? You both felt the urge and 'Oops! Look where you are now!' sort of thing?"

"Don't be crude, Thom. We're married."

Thom raised an eyebrow.

She blushed. "It's the only physical activity I get and…and, well, Jon needs it."

"You chase the twins around half the day. And don't think I'm fooled. You and Buri spar every morning at dawn. I've seen you."

The corner of her mouth turned up. "You keep that hushed up. If I get caught, there goes any chance of Kally having a choice."

"So why the sex?"

"I…don't know. A habit?"

"You should cross your legs and just say no."

"If only it were that simple."

"Well, it just got a lot more complicated. Here comes the third spawn of Jonathan."

Alanna sighed and leaned her head back. The thought of having another child scared her. She had survived once, and it had been rewarding. Kally and Thom were the light of her life. But another?

"Thom, I just can't do it again."

"Why not?"

Alanna shook her head fiercely. "I can't do it again."

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**Credit goes to Super-Nerd # 7 for the line about crossing your legs and saying no. **


	20. Their Kind of Love

**Author's Note: Hey all! So sorry that it's been a while. Besides all the homework I've got, I really struggled with this chapter and am not 100% pleased with it, but I can't even look at it anymore. Thank you so much for your reviews! You have no idea how much they mean to me! **

**Just a refresher, in case you forgot, my name is not written on the birth certificate of Alanna of Trebond. **

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**Chapter 20: Their Kind of Love **

**January 445 H.E. **

She'd gone to Eleni immediately after visiting Thom and Eleni had confirmed what Thom had said—Alanna was pregnant again.

This time, determined to have her freedom for a little while longer, Alanna told no one of her pregnancy. Not Buri. Not Thayet. Not Jon. She wanted to keep it to herself, knew she needed time to truly understand that she was going to bring _another_ child into this world. There was no question of her keeping it, but she was tired of feeling like she could no longer stand on her own feet, that she had no say. Once word was out that she was pregnant, she would be smothered with attention. Her battles as Champion were fewer and fewer as the nobles accepted her reign.

So she swore Eleni and Thom to secrecy, and continued with life as usual. But after four months, it was beginning to show and at Faithful's urging, Alanna approached Jon.

"Jon, we need to talk."

Jon swung his head, looked at her, and said "No."

"Excuse me?"

"You cannot take Kally and Thom and visit the Bazhir."

"What?"

"I've heard the rumors. You want to take our children to the Bloody Hawk and have them become members of the tribe. I say no."

Alanna rolled her eyes and screwed her hands into fists to try to resist the urge to slap him. "If your head was screwed on right, you'd remember that since both you and I are tribe members, Kally and Thom are as well. And you'd remember that I'm not stupid and wouldn't dream of that. They'll go to the Bloody Hawk with us when we make the Grand Progress."

Jon sighed and nodded his head in defeat. "Sorry," he said. "I'm just…"

"Busy. I know. You always are."

"Are you complaining about that?" he snapped.

"No, Jon. Mithros, I'm not here to make you angry. I had some news that I thought you'd like to hear."

"Unless you're here to tell me that that new Scanran chief has been killed, or that the emperor of Carthak isn't about to launch an invasion against Tyra, there isn't anything else I want to hear."

"Fine. Then I won't tell you that I'm pregnant again."

It took Jon a minute to process this. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Really?"

"Really."

He watched her for a minute, eyes narrowed and cautious.

"And are you okay with this?"

"Jon, it's not like I'm going to rip it out of me. It's unexpected, but it'll be fine. I love Kally and Thom, and I'm sure I'll love this one too. Though, hopefully, no surprise twins this time." Alanna tried to sound casual, but her voice was choked and shaky.

"You don't sound like it's fine," Jon noted.

"Jon, it's fine. End of discussion," Alanna snapped.

Jon shrugged. If she wasn't going to be honest with him, he wouldn't push her. It was too much effort sometimes. He smiled at her. "We're going to have another baby, are we? We'll have to think of names." He carefully reached out and tentatively began to caress her stomach. He frowned, noting the baby bump. "How far are you along?"

Alanna paused. "Four months, or so."

"Four _months_?" Jon gasped. "You've been pregnant for four months and you haven't told me? You just found out, right? You didn't keep this from me?"

"Well," Alanna began in a small voice, "I didn't know until the end of October. So I've only known for two months."

"And you didn't tell me?" Jon's temper rose.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Bullshit, Alanna! It's my child! …Unless it isn't?"

The redhead rolled her eyes. The only man she'd gone to bed with for the past six years was Jon. She'd kept her vow of fidelity; she knew that Jon had to.

"Don't be stupid. Of course it's yours," Alanna snapped, her own temper lost. "I was scared, dammit. The first time, it went well, but what about last time? Gods bless, I can't do that again, Jon. I can't!" Embarrassed by the tears that sprang to her eyes, she buried her face in her shaking hands.

Calmer, Jon took her into his arms, slowly stroking her hair and back in soothing circles. "It won't happen this time. It won't."

"How do you know?" she cried, her voice close to a wail.

"We'll have Baird and Numair and your brother and Eleni and all the best healers there. Nothing can go wrong."

"But they were there last time!"

"Alanna, it won't happen. Everything will be alright. I just know."

Alanna pulled her head away from his chest. "You _know_? What good is that going to do me? You're a king, Jon! Not a god!"

"I never said I was a god! I was just trying to comfort you, gods dammit!"

"Empty words don't help!"

"What do you want me to say? 'It might be okay'? 'The baby _might_ live'?"

"No! But you could think of something more real for me to believe! Because right now, I've got nothing real to depend on!"

"What am I? Stormwing shit?"

"You're too busy, remember?"

"Not for my own child! I would give the world for them!"

"But for your own wife!" Alanna's temper sparked into a flame. All the stress, the pain, the irritation with her life poured forth feeding the wildfire of anger between the two of them. "I know you don't love me, but could you stop making cow eyes at Thayet long enough to notice that your _wife_ is pregnant?"

"You hid it! How was I supposed to know?"

"If you even bothered to talk to me or ask me how I was! If you noticed me, you would have known that there were things bothering me!"

Jon's temper burst from the embers "Oh, and _you_ spend so much of your time trying to talk to _me_, worrying about _me_. You are either off practicing swordplay you don't use or nannying the twins!"

"That's because you're too busy running the kingdom!"

"Which is my responsibility! It's a little bit important!"

"Well, _my_ responsibility is to fight anyone who challenges your laws and to take care of my children!"

"_Our _children!"

"_Are_ they your children? Have you spent more than five minutes with them recently?"

"Alanna, I'm busy!"

"That's your excuse for _everything_!"

"Well, it's the only one I've got! Mithros, do you _think_ that I _like_ watching them from a distance? Don't you _think_ that I want to grow up with my little ones and not just watch them from my office? Goddess, Alanna! Do you think I _like_ watching from here as Thom and Kally ride their ponies? I want to be the one that catches them when they fall, not just watch you!"

Alanna gazed at Jon, whose chest was rising and falling, his arms flung open. She knew how much he did for the life outside their palace, but she didn't realize that he _wanted _to be involved in their family. She had thought he was too busy, had them lower on his priorities. Immediately she felt remorse for attacking him. But she couldn't apologize, because she knew she was right too.

It was hard when both of them were right.

"What if it's a girl, Jon?" She lowered her voice, tried to make it gentler.

"What?" He had not been following the same train of thought she had; he was still caught up in the heat of their argument.

"What if the baby is a girl?"

"Then she's a girl. We'll love her the same as if she was a boy. What are you trying to ask, Alanna?"

"And then when she wants to try for her shield, will she be allowed?"

"Allowed? I changed that law. Women are allowed to study for knighthood."

"If she wants to be a knight? Will she be allowed to? Will you let her go? Or will she be like Kally?"

"Kally is four!"

"And the Council has already made contact with three other monarchs about possible marriage alliances!"

"That doesn't mean she will marry one of them! This is what happens to royal children!"

"Royal _daughters_."

"That is not true. I had arranged engagements to…," Jon paused, not having shared this information before. "But they fell through."

"Who?"

"That's none of your business." Alanna crossed her arms. If she had been wearing a dress, it would have looked like a pouty woman. But because she was in her tan breeches, doublet, and jerkin, she looked like an irate warrior. A purple-eyed lioness, Jon thought. He sighed. "Josiane of the Copper Isles. A second-ranking princess from Yamani." Softly, he added. "_Jian_ Wilma's eldest daughter."

"Thayet?" Alanna asked softly.

Jon nodded, but wouldn't make eye contact with her.

"You were engaged to Thayet? When?"

"I was eleven. It was before I met you."

"Or her."

"Or her," Jon echoed, looking out the window.

Alanna didn't know what to say. She wanted to reach out and hold Jon, but she still wanted to shake him. He was just as, if not more so, responsible for their marriage as she was. Alanna hadn't considered how much Jon truly longed for Thayet, but she was remembering her longing for George.

"Jon…"

"Alanna. Stop."

"I didn't mean—"

"I know."

Alanna watched Jon, hating that the pity and empathy that stirred in breath, hating that she hated it. There were lines around his blue eyes, lines she knew were mirrored around her own.

"Jon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this about you and Thayet."

"You didn't? Are you sure? I have _never_ said anything to you about George. But here you march in, telling me you're pregnant and—"

Just when Alanna had thought she was calmer, Jon's words ignited the embers again and she roared back into the fire of anger. "Gods curse it, I meant to make it about our daughter! _You_ had to go and tell me you were engaged to Thayet! No wonder you've been wallowing in self-pity for all these years! You just sit there and picture what your life would have been like if the engagement had held. Wake up, Jon! _I'm_ your wife, whether we like it or not. And I'm pregnant with your child and we have two other children, one who cannot become a knight despite the fact that her mother is the first female knight in centuries and her father is _supposed _to be this great reforming king!"

Jon stared at Alanna. Her heated words drew a similar response in him; he wanted to scream back, to burn her up. He gathered his retort in his mind, ready to blast, but looked into her eyes. There was a fire burning there, but it was not the wildfire he expected, knew. This was a desperate flame, still burning brightly, but it was fighting the elements. It was threatened, struggling to stay alive, to stay as it should be, as it wanted to be. He could see the water threatening to spill over, to douse the fire. With dread, he knew that if that fire was truly drowned, he would never see it flicker again. Alanna was fighting to keep her own fire alive, to keep herself from drowning in the world she had locked in herself into.

For the first time in a long time, he remembered that he would not be able to live without that fire.

He tried to breathe in slowly, to calm his own mood. He picked one thing from her litany to respond to.

"You want Kalasin to be a knight?"

Alanna's mouth set. "Yes…and no. I would love for our daughter to become a knight, but more importantly, I want her to have a choice."

"A choice?" said Jon as if he wasn't sure he understood the word.

"Yes, a choice. She, and anyone, should be allowed to choose—if she didn't want to ride horses or wield a sword, she should be permitted to say that. Jon, I understand that she is a pawn in the great political scheme. But she's also your daughter. Why can't she learn to fight? She would have to learn both—how to be a proper lady and how to fight. I sort of wished I had learned court etiquette from a lady's perspective; I still make so many blunders."

"I'll think about it," Jon promised, filing it away for when it would become urgent. "And by the way, you don't make too many blunders," he added kindly.

She just sighed. "Thinking about it" wasn't a solution, wasn't a guarantee, but she was so tired of arguing.

"Alanna, I'm sorry."

She didn't look up. "Why? I'm the one who yelled."

"For forgetting what you mean to me. You are my wife, and though I… though we're not… I do need you. I told you before: you are my sword arm. Without you…"

"You'd have only have one arm." Alanna met his eyes and saw his sincerity in his attempt to reconcile.

He touched her shoulder tentatively and she placed her fingers on his.

It was an acknowledgement. It wasn't a resolution or an agreement, but acknowledgment was a start. They went from hate to friendship and back again with astonishing speed. It made Alanna's head hurt. She just wanted something familiar. She was hit by the sharp pang of missing life as Alan, something that hadn't gone away since her duel with Dain of Melor.

She wanted to talk to him, truly talk to him. About their children, about Tortall, about their friends, about Thayet. She wanted to ask him if seeing Thayet made his skin tingle and his stomach twist in knots and his heart leap and fall, enjoying her presence while knowing that he could never have her. She just didn't know how to approach the topic.

"So we're going to have another baby?" he asked, after several moments of silence. His thoughts had not gone down the same path as hers, but it was safe subject.

"We really are," Alanna said.

"Who'd have thought, Lioness? Another cub."

"Mhmm."

They sat again in silence, the space between them a strange mixture of tension and comfort.

"I would have never thought you'd give birth again."

Jon seemed to be trying to fill the void by conversing on this relatively light subject. But for some reason, the comment jarred in Alanna. She wanted to be away from him, hitting something.

Standing up quickly, Alanna kissed Jon's cheek. "At least I'm good at something these days. Just think: if I die, you can marry Thayet. I even give you permission before my corpse is cold."

_Ouch_. Alanna immediately saw the effects on Jon's face. His eyes widened, taking in the idea. For a moment, it appealled to him and that hurt, like a knife in her breast. But then, she could see the disgust on his face at thinking it, his inner struggle on loathing himself for wanting it. The battle raged on his face, turning it a mottled red. His eyes were like a wildfire, trying to burn in so many ways at once that it was spreading itself thin. If pushed to much further, it could burn itself up. Alanna's heart squeezed to think of what it would be like for his fire to die, to wither up from lack of kindling or land to feed off of. He was fighting to keep his fire burning under control and not let it rule him.

If that fire raged, she knew that she, as well as this kingdom, would be lost.

Without another word, guilt sitting in her breast, Alanna took herself out to the practice court, where she found Buri. Buri was eager for a sparring partner. They picked up the heavy practice swords, and soon began to have at each other, their white breaths swirling around them.

Alanna knew Buri's skill and methods like her own, for the K'mir had been Alanna's partner now for three years, both of them desperate to keep themselves in shape as they languished around the palace. They had been pounding each other for an hour, much to the cheers of the gathered King's Own, just back from liberating a town of a nasty centaur problem.

"Alanna! Alanna!"

She could hear her name being called, but didn't dare look around for fear that Buri would disarm her. Buri swung her sword in the crescent moon formation, and Alanna blocked it and swung the two blades around. Buri managed to hold on to hers, unfortunately, but it gave Alanna enough time to switch from defensive to offensive. She had just swung her blade downward when a figure burst in between the two of them. Recognizing Thayet, Alanna pulled back just before striking her squarely on the forehead.

"What," she panted, "do you think you're doing?"

"My lady," yelled Buri, "that was utterly and pathetically _stupid_!"

Thayet paid no heed to Buri or the King's Own Commander who had approached, but turned on Alanna. "What do you think that you are doing?" she screamed.

"I think I am sparring with Buri. What do you think you're doing? You ought to know better than to jump in the middle of battle!"

"You ought to know better than to be sparring while you're with child!" Thayet screamed.

Everyone immediately fell silent.

"Pregnant again, Lioness?" asked Raoul, the corner of his mouth turned up.

"Yes, you big oaf," Alanna rolled her eyes.

The men chorused their congratulations, cheering for their queen.

She waved to the men, smiling for their benefit, but when her eyes returned to Thayet, they were cold. "Yes, I'm going to have another baby. But my stupidity in that regard does not mean _you_ should be stupid and almost get killed. Jon would not hesitate to behead me if anything were ever to happen to _you_, Thayet jian Wilima." Thayet blushed, Alanna noted. "But listen. I am not going to be pampered for the next few months. I'll exercise still, because that's all I have left. I won't do the complex dances or movements, but you can't take it all away from me this time. It's my last happiness; don't take it away."

Thayet nodded, knowing Alanna would not be persuaded otherwise. Her dark eyes were wide from the harsh tone the queen had used. She'd witnessed Alanna's anger before, but it had never been directed at her. Alanna turned on her heel and stalked away.

Buri, still shaken, shook her head at her mistress. "You shouldn't have done that."

"She's right, Thayet." Raoul grinned fondly at Buri for a moment before turning back to the exiled princess. "All three of you could have gotten hurt. All four," he corrected himself.

"I'm sorry. It was foolish of me," Thayet sighed. "I just want what's best for her. I guess I got used to her listening to me, and I don't want the baby to be hurt. She was so lost after the miscarriage—"

"Miscarriage?" chorused the two warriors.

Thayet looked down at her feet. "About two years ago, Alanna got pregnant, but she miscarried before it went full term." To their questioning looks, Thayet added: "It was a boy. Jon named him Jasson and had him buried quietly. Alanna doesn't know he was named; she didn't want to know. She's taken it hard, and she won't let anyone see it. I'm only trying to protect her. It's just so hard to protect someone who won't be protected." With that, Thayet threw up her hands and hurried away.

Raoul turned to Buri. "Did you know?"

Buri shook her head. "I only heard rumors, but I never knew for sure. Poor Alanna."

Raoul nodded in agreement, watching the retreating figure of Thayet. "Is Thayet herself well?" he asked.

Buri laughed weakly. "Thayet would be angry to know you thought her otherwise, but…" She paused, hating to reveal secrets.

"But?" pushed Raoul.

"I think you deserve to know more. I mean, with your broken betrothal and all."

Thayet had finally agreed to Raoul's suit and the wedding had been arranged. But five months before she was due to march down the aisle and be instated as Lady of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, Thayet had broken it off without word of why.

"No offense, Goldenlake, but she decided she couldn't marry someone and not love him."

"I see."

Buri figured that the reason for the big man's silence was heartbreak. "I'm sorry, Raoul," she said softly. "Thayet's not been herself lately. For a while, she was so happy to be here, no longer jian Wilima's daughter. Or even Kalasin's daughter. She loves being involved in government. The king finally got her into his advisors, and they're always together. But now…I don't know what to do."

Raoul furrowed his brow. Jon and Thayet always together? He wasn't heartbroken like Buri thought, but he didn't like the idea of Thayet constantly with the king. It wasn't that he didn't like Thayet being involved—contrarily, he thought Thayet was intelligent and perfect for that sort of role. But he had known of Jon's crush, prior to his marriage to Alanna.

"Don't worry, Buri. Thayet's got a head on her shoulders. She'll come back."

"She may," the little K'mir allowed. "But she won't come back to _you_."

"I know, and I'm alright with it. Truly I am. She would _hate_ my grandmother. And my grandmother would hate her."

"Would she, now?" Buri laughed. Thayet had a way with the older generation, which probably had something to do with her beauty and her kindness.

"Come to think of it, so would you. But I don't care as much about what that she-dragon would think about you."

"Ouch, Goldenlake. Don't spare my feelings." It stung more than a little, Buri admitted only to herself. Just because _I'm_ not beautiful.

"Oh, Buriram Tourakom. I didn't mean it like _that_." Raoul's eyes were helpless, as he tried to think of an adequate response. "I'd kiss you right now actually, if it weren't for the fact that my men are fifty yards behind me, and would never let me forget it for the rest of my life."

Buri's cheeks warmed and her heart skipped a beat. "Well then," she told the big knight. "I suppose that means you'd be ashamed of me." Her brown eyes snapped good-humouredly, invoking a challenge. It was familiar territory, their verbal sparring, but now with different weapons—flirtation and, maybe, love.

Raoul threw back his head and laughed. "You win," he said as he lowered his face until it was level with hers. "You win," he whispered again as he kissed her softly. Cheers and wolf-whistles from the King's Own echoed through the crisp air.

-x-x-x-

"I'm sorry."

Both women stared at each other, and then burst out laughing.

"I really am sorry though," Thayet said once they had calmed down.

"So'm I. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"I shouldn't have acted like your mother."

They smiled at each other, friends again. Alanna gestured Thayet inside her receiving chamber, where a hot pot of tea sat. Alanna had changed into a loose-fitting gown. Silently, Alanna poured tea, and they drank the hot sweet liquid.

"How are you?" they asked, in unison again. Thayet motioned for Alanna to answer the question first.

"I'm well," Alanna replied stoutly. "Nothing new, beside this." She gestured at her stomach, which at four months was only a little bit of bump.

"I'm doing well, too," Thayet said, too cheerfully.

"That's good to hear." Alanna's head bobbed back and forth as she debated asking Thayet a personal question.

"You look as if you want to say something, Your Majesty."

Alanna frowned. "You've never called me _that_ before. Don't start now."

"Sorry," Thayet said quickly. "I don't know…why…I did that."

"Thayet, what's wrong?" Alanna's voice was gentle and low, the way she spoke to her children. Suddenly, Thayet burst into tears, a very uncharacteristic thing for her to do.

"Oh, Alanna! I didn't ask him to do it! I mean, oh I wanted him to, but I just…I shouldn't have let him. He's not mine! Oh, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Calm down, calm down." Alanna was alarmed. Kally and Thom threw temper tantrums, but there had always been a nurse to help settle their woes. Alanna usually botched it. "I don't understand what you're saying when you blubber."

"He kissed me, Alanna! He kissed me! Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Who kissed you?"

"Jonathan!" Thayet's pretty face dove into her hands.

Alanna sat back in her chair and laughed. Thayet, alarmed, raised her head. Jonathan had, in the middle of a conversation, had looked up at her soulfully and, without warning, had kissed her. She'd kept it hidden for days and had been wracked with the guilt of betraying her friend. She had not expected Alanna to laugh. This was Alanna's _husband_ they were talking about! The man who was supposed to cleave only to Alanna for the rest of his life!

Alanna had a mixture of emotions. One was relief, that this was all Thayet was upset about. One was anger, because _she_'d restrained herself from kissing George…last time. One was just confusion, because she realized that she should be jealous, and wasn't at all.

She realized now why Jon was even less in control of his thoughts of Thayet: knowing what it was like to kiss her, restraining himself...

"So that's why you broke your engagement to Raoul."

Thayet blushed. "Yes, I suppose it is. I didn't think he'd want someone who'd—"

"Who'd what? Been kissed by the king?"

"…Yes."

"Oh, Thayet, Jon's been in love with you for _years_."

"Excuse me?"

Alanna nodded. "You heard me."

"But—but I don't understand! You—he loves you!"

"He _loved _me. Past tense. But the moment he saw you, he was head over heels for you."

"Why did he marry you then?"

"Because you kept cutting him down. When he'd try to talk to you, and you would talk about me? He was trying to get around to courting you. I almost told you that day."

"I ruined your life!" Thayet wailed.

"You didn't _ruin_ my life. You altered the course a little. But I got Kally and Thom out of it, and I wouldn't trade them for the world."

"Why did you marry him if you knew all that?"

"I've been asking myself that for the past five years. I guess the pressure got to be too much. From Jon, from myself, from everyone." Alanna chuckled wryly. "Jon's pretty persuasive when he wants to be. He convinced me we had our 'own kind of love'. And I thought George had forgotten me…"

"George? George Cooper?" Thayet said in disbelief. "The former Rogue? You were such a cute pair."

"Thanks."

"Oh, Alanna, I'm so sorry. I…I think … I'm in love with Jon," Thayet admitted as she examined her flawless hands. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is awful, but it was almost _easier _when I thought you loved him."

"Loving him isn't a crime," Alanna said. "It's not listening to yourself that's the true crime here."

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**Raoul and Buri needed a little lovin'. They don't have to be miserable! Just Alanna and Jon and Thayet and George. Tehe. **


	21. Breathe

**Author's Note: Tamora Pierce wrote it. I just fan-fictioned it. **

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**Chapter 21: Breathe **

**May 445 H.E. **

Five months, two weeks, three days later, Alanna went into labor. Gathered in the room, Princess Kalasin and Prince Thomas witnessed the birth of their new siblings. There was no surprise twin this time; no, this time, the Lioness had triplets, two boys and one girl.

The labor was shorter than her first, but it was just as difficult. Agony wracked the queen's body as she struggled to deliver the children. Covered in sweat and tears, with one great push, the two boys, one right after the other, met the world for the first time. Eleni scooped them up, and they were handed, hastily wiped, to their father. Jon was startled to feel the same rush of new love for these children. He'd expected to love them equally, but thought the sudden earth-shaking feeling was reserved for the first time. He was delighted to find that this was untrue. They'd both inherited Jon's eyes, but he laughed when he saw that one head was black, the other was bright orange.

He turned to share their new bundles of joy with Alanna, but his wife was still ferociously straining.

"There's still one more," Eleni said and she tried to place the Lioness's legs back where she could brace them. "Push, once more, love. You can do it," she said, as calmly and encouragingly as she had for the past three hours. A flow of fluid, frighteningly red, gushed from between Alanna's legs. Jon winced and held the boys tighter.

Eleni's hands and wrists turned red with blood and her face turned white as she tried to help deliver this last baby. Finally, Alanna gave an almighty heave and out tumbled a third infant, much tinier than her brothers and a little purple about the face. Alanna fainted dead away. Eleni scooped this babe up, just as briskly as she had the others, but something made her pause. Tenderly, she wiped the little girl's face. Peering intently, the child's grandmother reached for her Gift.

"What's wrong?" demanded Jon when his daughter was not placed directly into his arms. The boys were being held by nursery maids, and Kally and Thom peered at them eagerly.

"This one, this one is struggling."

"Struggling? Struggling for what?" Jon had not liked the sound of Eleni's voice.

"For life," she whispered, her voice choking.

Jon's face blanched and he glanced at Alanna, still unconscious. "Gods all bless," he whispered, wiping threatening tears from his eyes. He sent up many silent prayers as Eleni carefully tended to the little girl. The two boys, forgotten, cried hungrily, but Jon kept his eyes on his daughter.

-x-x-x-

"Where are they?" Alanna asked as she came to. Jon gestured silently for the boys to be brought to their mother. They snuggled into her, and she hugged them, bathing in the maternal love she felt from her heart. Like Jon had before, she marveled that the same universe-altering love could apply to the second batch of children she had produced. But something was wrong.

"Where is the third one?" she asked bewilderedly. "I know I can't breast-feed three, but I would like to see my other baby."

Everyone hesitated. Jon took her hand. "Sweetheart. Love," he said. Alanna looked at him, and then at all the other grave faces.

"What? What is it?" Her voice grew shriller.

"The other baby…" Jon said slowly. "She's a girl, and she came…but we're…we're worried."

"Worried?" Alanna repeated.

"Yes. You see, she's not…doing so well."

Alanna hugged her new boys to her tightly. "I want to see her."

"I don't know—"

"I want to see her."

Reluctantly, Jon signaled for Eleni. Eleni approached the queen, holding a tiny bundle. Jon took one of the boys into his own arms, so the little girl could be placed in her mother's arms. Alanna looked down at the little face and felt her world spin, just as it had for Thom and Kally, and just as it had for the boys, just moments before. But her heart constricted painfully. This was not the healthy, robust face she had expected, had wanted. The miniscule face, hidden under a shock of red hair, was still faintly purple and the eyes were squeezed shut. Any movement was jerky.

Alanna looked at her stepmother. "Is there nothing to be done?"

Eleni's large hazel eyes were sad. "I have tried, dear. But her heart is not strong. I don't think she had enough room in the womb. All three are smaller than they should be, but we're most concerned for her."

Alanna looked down again at her tiny daughter, and began to shake her head. Her brain shook with the violence of her head's movements. "No! No! No!"

"Alanna," Jon's desperate voice called, his free hand clutching her shoulder. "Stop! It's not helping."

Alanna's head shot up. She had journeyed to the Realms of the Dead before to save Jon. She could do it now to save Jon's daughter. _Merciful Mother, help me! _She reached for her Gift, ready to pour it all into this tiny being. In her mind, she could see the purple fire, but it was dimmer than it had been when Jon had lain dying from the Sweating Sickness. _Burn higher! Burn brighter! Save my daughter! _

Eleni's voice was harsh. "Stop! Alanna, if you use your magic, all will be lost."

"How? All will be lost if _she_ dies!"

"No. You haven't the strength to fight death, not now. If you try, you both will die."

Alanna turned to Jon, who understanding her look, began to roll up his sleeves. They were united in one purpose—to save their tiny daughter.

"Your Majesty! You can't!"

"Why?" demanded Jon. "I have not labored for hours. My strength is not limited. This is _my_ _daughter_." Eleni could not argue as Jon took the girl gently into his arms.

"Gods all bless."

"So mote it be," whispered Alanna, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, willing him to succeed. She watched as Jon concentrated, his brow furrowing. Sweat beaded from his forehead after only a few minutes. She longed to reach for her ember-stone, but her hands were full of her sons, living and breathing sons.

Jon broke his concentration and turned to Alanna. His eyes did not offer her hope.

"Alanna," he gasped. "I don't know what I can do. She breathes more shallowly every minute."

Pure terror broke through Alanna's body.

"I want Maude. I want my brother. I want Numair. I want Baird. I want Mithros. I want the Goddess. I want them here, and I want them now!"

Maids scurried to do the queen's bidding. She kissed the still-unnamed boys' heads. "I love you," she told each of them. "So much. And I promise to hold you each for twelve hours straight. But for now, I must take care of your sister."

She handed them to maids, instructing them to be cleaned more thoroughly and be given to the wet-nurse. The tiny girl was placed in her arms again, and she cradled her against her breast. She began to sing, crooning, slightly off-key, to her daughter.

The baby opened her mouth, and Alanna hoped that she would latch herself to her nipple or even give a squalling cry to say "I'm here! I want to live!" However, the baby only was trying to find a new way to bring air to her lungs. An awful rattling sound filled the room.

"Please live, Marinine. Please live." The name slipped, unbidden, from Alanna's lips. "Marinine, please live."

As if in response, the baby whimpered.

"Marinine?" asked Jon softly.

"Yes," said Alanna, not looking up. "For my mother."

_Fight, Marinine, fight. Fight like my mother couldn't. Fight and live. For her. For you. For _me_. Please._

Alanna sent up her prayers to her patroness. _Please, Merciful Mother. If now were ever the time to be with me, please. Save my Marinine. _

"Fight, Mari," whispered Jon. Alanna smiled at him, and he climbed carefully unto the bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around Alanna, and the parents gazed down at their daughter.

-x-x-x-

Maude Tanner came. Thom came. Numair Salmalin came. Duke Baird of Queenscove came.

Little Marinine lived through dawn, and hope began to beat in her parents' chests.

After the child was taken away for Master Salmalin to examine her, the boys were brought back to Alanna and Jon. They were too exhausted to think of many names for them.

Roald and Alan, named for their grandfathers, had scarcely spent more than an hour in their parents' presence. Now, their health was quietly celebrated. Black-haired Alan was awake most of the time, while red-haired Roald slept. Both gurgled, but were quieter than Kalasin and Thom had been. It seemed as though the boys realized the severity of the situation, and knew that their parents were holding their breath, hoping for the next breath of their triplet.

Finally, Marinine was brought back into the bedroom, but there was no good news.

"There's nothing more I—or anyone—can do for her," Duke Baird said. "It's the hands of the gods now. I hope she lives."

"So mote it be."

Kalasin and Thom were brought in to meet their siblings. In whispers, Jon tried to explain that Marinine was very sick. Both were wide-eyed as they stared at their tiny sister, their minds trying to understand the fathomlessness of life and death.

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**Well...? Thoughts? Questions? Answers? Favorites? **


	22. Live

**Author's Note: Can we just live in Tortall, please? No papers, no tests, no exams... but only Tamora Pierce has got the map there. **

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**Chapter 22: Live**

Marinine had lived to see one dawn, but she did not see another.

Cradling the cold, grey little body, Alanna herself struggled for breath. Her chest was tight and it felt as though both her and Marinine's breaths were gone. It felt as if someone had stabbed Lightning through her heart, and the handle and blade of the sword were still embedded in her body and in her soul.

There were no more tears left. There were no more beseeching prayers. There was nothing left but the shell of what would have been Princess Marinine of Conté.

But Alanna refused to give up the daughter in her arms. Eleni coaxed, Thayet pleaded, Buri begged, Thom ordered, Faithful tugged. Jon, his own grief sharp, sent them away. In each other's arms, the king and queen sat, looking at the second daughter, who would not breathe again.

"I'm not doing it again, Jon," she said, her eyes bloodshot. There was a light, Jon noted, that had gone out; a light that he hadn't noticed was there until it was gone.

"What?" he asked kindly, as he reached for her hand.

"I'm not doing it again. I…can't lose another one. Jasson was…easier to lose, wasn't he? I know you named him. I've visited the grave. But I never held him; I never had to watch him fight. But Mari… I couldn't do anything. I couldn't—" Alanna's voice broke, dry sobs wracking her body.

Jon cradled her against him. "It's not your fault. You can't save everyone."

"But I should be able to! I'm…I'm the _Lioness, _chosen by the Goddess."

"Alanna, _you _are _not_ a goddess. You can't do everything. You're human. And you tried. You fought hard. I did less than you," he added, revealing his own helplessness.

Reaching out to her husband, needing to comfort him, needing him to comfort her, Alanna touched his cheek. They sat in silence, until they both fell wearily into sleep.

-x-x-x-

The funeral for Marinine took place quickly and quietly and the little girl was buried next to her brother. Alanna wept openly, something that stunned the court. For once, there was not a whisper about her behavior—no furrowed brows, no frowns, no shaking heads. No one, not even the strictest conservative, could find such an unfeeling place in his heart to tell the grieving queen how to behave at a funeral, because no one wanted to tell a mother how to mourn her child.

As soon as the ceremony was completed and the Priestess of the Goddess clasped her hands together for a final time, Alanna lifted her heavy, black skirts and fled the Chapel. She found herself in her personal bedchamber, her face buried in the pillow, howling her misery.

Jon found her that way, hours later, fast asleep, her tears still on her cheeks and eyelashes. Gently, he wiped them away with his finger, only to find that her cheeks were still wet. Even though her misery had worn her out, tears still flowed from her eyes.

His own heart aching, he gazed down at his wife. She looked so _vulnerable_, he realized, something that struck him profoundly. It was hard to think of the mighty Lioness as vulnerable, but here she was, so human. Guilt brimmed over in Jon's insides, making him want to be sick. _He_ had done this to her. If he hadn't married her, if he hadn't been so foolish as to need to cling to someone… She would have married George, would have had George's children. Maybe those children would have all survived. Maybe she would have never had children. But no, he, Jonathan, had to be selfish. He had to wring a promise from a friend, a friend he knew would give up her whole life for him—and she had done just that. _And now, look at her. _She looked broken.

Jon realized that he could no longer see Alanna because his own eyes were full of tears. In vain he tried to stop himself, but his shoulders were shaking and, to his internal horror, he began to sob.

His cries roused Alanna from her dreamless sleep, and she awoke and found Jon standing over her, weeping.

"Jon," she said softly, reaching for him. But he backed away, not wanting to held or comforted by the woman whose life he had destroyed.

"Alanna," he choked out, "I'm so—I'm so sorry."

Her shoulders rose and fell. "You couldn't have saved her, either," she reminded him quietly.

"No! Not that! For everything! For making you choose me, even though you didn't want to. For pushing you through this. I took everything from you, without even thanking you properly. I'm—I'm—"

Alanna stood up, the black folds of her gown moving with her liquidly. She was beautiful, Jon noted, especially in black. It made her hair shine. Approaching Jon like he was a skittish horse, she slowly reached her hand forward, lightly touching his cheek.

"Jon, it's too late for you to say you're sorry for marrying me."

"It's too late to be undone, but I have to apologize. I hurt us both so much. I was selfish, it was wrong—"

"No, no, no." Alanna's voice was soft. "Don't say it was wrong. Because then you make Kally and Thom and Alan and Roald and …and Jasson…and," her chin trembled, "and Marinine _wrong_. You make what you—we've done for this kingdom wrong. And it's not. Don't make it wrong, Jon. If you make it wrong, then everything I have left is wrong…and I couldn't live with that."

Another wave of guilt engulfed Jon as he looked his best friend. She had gone through hell and back with him, holding his hand.

"I couldn't live if you didn't," he whispered.

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**Now I have to take a moment and say that Jon and Alanna actually seem to be working. I mean, they don't hate each other. They're going through a really rough time and they've managed to stay (pretty) faithful to each other and they haven't ended up on Tortall's version of **_**Jerry Springer. **_


	23. Goodbyes Are Never Forever

**Author's Note: Tamora Pierce has the copyright for the Tortallan Universe and all the characters therein. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! (P.s.-I am thankful for reviews. What are _you_ thankful for?) **

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**Chapter 23: Good-byes Are Never Forever**

**August 445 H.E. **

It was hard. Alanna felt like an infant herself, teaching herself how to live again. How to take baby steps away, how to leave the pain behind. It did not go away, and she carried this scar as if she earned it in battle. She did make good on her promise to Roald and Alan, and she held them constantly. She had always hovered by the nursery, but now she rarely left the room. She'd spend hours, playing and reading with Kally and Thom, and cradling her baby sons to her chest, relishing every breath they drew. Jonathan threw himself into his role as king with a new frightening fervor. Marinine's death brought them closer in a way they had never dreamed possible. Losing a child, losing two children, is impossible to bear by oneself; they did their best to comfort one another.

Jon, with his work, had his distraction; Alanna had her own. But she could perform her exercises, her tea parties, her duels, her own programs without thinking about them. Instead her thoughts were always on her lost daughter. Occasionally they drifted to the son she'd never held. When she was with Kalasin and Thomas and Alan and Roald, she breathed easier; she still had them-their lungs drew oxygen without trial, without effort. But away from them, Alanna found it hard. It was like swimming upstream in a very strong current. Months went by and the newness of grief had worn off, to be replaced by an eternal sadness. Alanna wore her anguish like a cloak. Her smiles became rarer; she hadn't entirely stopped, but the fierce happy light had dimmed from her eyes. This was worse than seeing the Kraken.

One evening, the queen was returning to her chambers from a Council meeting, one that had actually gone rather well for Alanna—she'd been able to convince them that public schools would greatly increase the well-being of the Tortallan people (it had been Thayet's idea), and that the choice of knighthood was going to be extended to girls (only girls in the Gold Book, but at least it was a start). She walked slowly along, and ran into someone she hadn't seen in front of her. She looked up, ready to apologize, but stopped short. It was the Goddess.

"My child, some time has passed since we have spoken."

Alanna felt the tenderness in that terrible, beautiful voice. She curtseyed to her patroness. "It has, my Mother," she said simply.

"Many things have occurred between now and then, have they not?"

Alanna nodded dumbly.

"You are in great pain, my chosen."

Alanna said nothing.

"It is not like you to remain silent."

"Turn to me, and be gracious, my Mother. For my heart is in distress." From Alanna's lips came an ancient prayer she had read in a book when she was younger.

"Why?" the Goddess asked, her beautiful dark eyebrows raised.

"Why?" Alanna repeated incredulously. "_Why_? I have lost not one but two children, and held one of them in my arms as she died!"

"You have other children."

"My other children are the greatest joys in my life. But don't you hurt when you lose one of those you consider your children? Am I not your daughter? Would you mourn me if I were to die?" Alanna demanded.

"It is as the world turns. You mortals do not live long lives."

Anger flooded Alanna's heart. For the first time since Marinine's death, true feeling coursed through. Blood hummed through her veins and pure life. She wanted to grab the Goddess and shake her, to make her understand.

"Mortals may live for short times, but we _live_. Unlike you immortals who sit on your heavenly thrones and watch us as if we were Players, caring not when our entrances and exits are, just as long as you enjoy the plot!" Alanna spat. Her vision had tunneled red, burning her through her. Could her patroness, to whom laboring women prayed, be so insensitive in her immortal state that she did not understand the desperate, horrible anguish within Alanna's breast?

The expression on that great, awful face did not alter as she listened to Alanna's rage.

"Alanna, I cannot help what I am. And you cannot help what you are. It is the way of life. But I know that it is difficult. I cannot feel the human pain that is buried in your heart, but I know pain, an infinite pain beyond your comprehension. Every child that is lost and every woman who does not live through labor, they are a part of me, as much as Marinine was part of you. You have lost two children, but I have lost millions."

Alanna lowered her head, ashamed of her rudeness. "Forgive me, Mother." The goddess placed a hand on Alanna's shoulder, and she could feel both the weight and lightness of the touch.

"'Turn to me, and be gracious. For my heart is in distress,'" the Mother said softly. "'My tears linger at night. But joy comes in the morning light.'"

Alanna nodded, hearing the old prayer. She gazed out the window where the stars twinkled from the dark sky. A bright falling star left a streak of light in its wake as it moved across the heavens. She looked at the Goddess and noticed another figure next to her. It was the murky silhouette of a young girl. As she looked closer, the girl became less foggy and her features emerged. Faint coloring dusted over the child. Alanna could detect rosy cheeks, tiny brown freckles, and orange hair. Harshly she drew a breath as the ghost child took the Goddess' hand and looked up at the immortal.

The Mother smiled sweetly. "Yes, Marinine, this is she."

Alanna found it difficult to breathe as she looked at her daughter. The girl's sapphire blue eyes fixed on her mother's with an eager look. Alanna realized that she had not once since Marinine's eyes opened for the two days she had held her.

Tears welled into Alanna's eyes as she reached for her child. Cautiously, the ghost put her own tiny hand out as well. Slowly, their fingertips touched and Alanna felt a coldness sweep through her bones, but she did not pull her hand away. Beneath the chill of death, she could feel the pull she felt for her other children—the humming of love that told her that this little girl was her own flesh and blood, that this was her daughter, that this was her Marinine. Alanna was afraid to touch the child more, but Marinine threw herself at her mother. She scrambled up the short queen as if she were a tree. Her arms went about Alanna's neck and her legs about her waist. Alanna hugged her to her fiercely, trying to hold back the tears.

She tried very hard to be happy that she at least had this. She was at least holding her Marinine one more time, but an awful, aching thought would not leave. She would never have the opportunity to see her this way, where her daughter's limbs would be warm from playing in the sun.

"Mama, Mama!" the child whispered. "Don't cry." She brushed Alanna's tears away with her fingers. Her voice was sweet and high, so like her sister Kalasin's. Alanna cried harder, her chin shaking with the effort to stop. "Mama, you mustn't cry. You've cried an awful lot and I don't want to make you cry more. Oh, it's all my fault!" The child burst into tears.

Alanna became alarmed. "No, no, my love. Don't cry. Oh, it's not your fault. Don't you ever think it's your fault!"

"But if I had fought like you and Papa wanted me to, you wouldn't have cried! I watched you and all you did for months was cry."

Alanna began to stroke the child's hair, desperate to make her stop sobbing. She couldn't bear to make her daughter cry; children mustn't worry about their mothers, and she didn't want to distress the girl. She felt the same instinct for her children as for the spirit of her child; she must protect her from pain. And to think that she was the one to cause her pain!

The Goddess stepped forward now and placed a hand on Marinine's shoulder. "You promised you wouldn't distress your mother if I brought you, little one." Marinine nodded, but her tears were not yet dry.

"Mari, I won't cry anymore if you won't," Alanna said, still clutching her daughter. The little girl nodded, her blue eyes flowing. "You mustn't think that you caused this. _It's not your fault_."

"It's not yours, either," the Goddess pointed out.

Alanna swallowed, but nodded. "I love you, my Marinine." She kissed the girl's icy temple and closed her eyes.

"I love you too, Mama. And I love Papa and Kally and Thom and Alan and Roald. I miss them, even though Alan would kick me when he was hungry. When we were inside your tummy."

Alanna felt something like a laugh bubble from her. "I shall tell them. They miss you and love you too, Mari." The familiarity with her family brought shivers to her heart, good shivers. Marinine was still part of their lives.

"Oh!" The ghost girl's eyes went wide and she clapped her hands to her cheeks. "I forgot! I met Grandfather Alan and Grandmother Marinine—she and I have the same name! And Grandfather Roald and Grandmother Lianne! And someone named Francis. Grandfather Alan said to tell you," the girl's face scrunched up as she remembered, "that he was sorry for never being a better father to you, and he is proud of you and Uncle Thom. Grandmother Marinine says that she loves you and wishes she had met you. Papa's mommy and daddy say they think he's doing a wonderful job and that your family is beautiful. Francis said to tell you that he's proud of you when you saved Jon. Is Jon Papa? Did you really save him?" Marinine's eager face thoroughly convinced Alanna that this truly was her second daughter. She looked exactly like her sister, eagerly awaiting the next tale. The Goddess cleared her throat, and Marinine looked at her. The Goddess raised her eyebrows. "Oh, Mama! There's one other person that is here to see you."

Another murky figure appeared by the Goddess. The person who emerged was taller and older than Marinine, but not much. His face was cut similarly, with the same red hair and blue eyes, but the cut of his features were so familiar, Alanna realized that this had to be a son of Jonathan's.

"Jasson," Alanna breathed. The boy approached her and too threw his arms around her.

In that moment, Alanna's heart left the still, dead place it had been for so long and lifted until she thought it would burst from the top of her skull.

"Mama," he said gravely, "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"I love you," was all Alanna could say. She put Marinine down and wrapped her second son in her arms and squeezed. Then Marinine pouted and had to be included in the hug.

-x-x-x-

The Goddess cleared her throat. "Children, we must leave now."

Both children groaned. "Must we?" "Please, let's stay longer." Alanna, seated on the floor, holding their icy hands, had to resist the urge to pout as well.

"You promised," the Great Mother reminded them sternly. Immediately, the spirits rose from the floor. Alanna too stood up. For the last half hour, she was in heaven. She was with the two children that she had grieved for, telling them stories and laughing with them and touching them.

"You have to go?" Alanna asked, aware that she sounded just as childish as her children.

"Yes," was the firm answer. "I would not have let you see them if I did not think you could bear it. You were so miserable I thought it would relieve you to see that your children are not gone." Here the Goddess smiled faintly. "Mortals believe that we are cruel because we take your loved ones. We are not that cruel. Your lives are short, and Death is inevitable. You have free will and always will have it. Because we do not set in stone your fates, that much is in your own hands. The world works without our interference and we let it alone when we see fit. Therefore, some die at a young age; some die at an old age; some die in-between. I would not have taken Jasson and Marinine away from you purposefully." The Goddess sighed. "But you shall be joined again, in eternity, in the Peaceful Realms. Good-byes are never forever. You must remember that, my daughter."

"Yes, my Mother."

"Say goodbye, children."

Once more, Alanna gathered her second son and second daughter to her. Once more she kissed their copper hair. Once more she patted their freckled cheeks. Once more she heard their voices, telling her not to cry and that they loved her.

"Oh, and Mama!" she heard as they faded from her vision. "You must take care of our new sister. She will need all the help she can get!"

And then they were gone.

_New sister?_ Alanna wondered. She heard her name but did not respond. She stared at the window she stood by, knowing that she was being watched. She gave a little wave.

"Alanna! Who are you waving at?" She turned and found Jon standing behind her. He looked tired and worried. His gaze scanned her face. "You've been crying," he said softly. He took her upper arms in his hands. "Oh, Alanna…" he seemed to be searching for something to say.

The tears flowing freely again, Alanna laughed. "Jon, it's alright. I'm alright." She tried to wipe away her tears, but gave up.

"What is it?" Jon's grip tightened and he shook her slightly. "Alanna, you can't have lost it now."

"I may have," she laughed. "But I've been told that Alan has always kicked when he was hungry, and his target was usually Marinine."

"You have lost it."

"No," Alanna said, and told him what had happened. Jon's face went from incredulous, to worried, to shocked. His cheeks were wet.

"Why didn't you come find me? Why didn't I get to meet them?" he demanded, trying to wipe his face with his sleeve.

"I'm just glad you believe me," Alanna admitted. "I don't know, besides the Goddess is my patron. But they love you. I was told to tell you several times."

Jon leaned back in his chair, trying to take it all in. He shook his head as he took Alanna's hand. "This really happened. Our children really visited you." Alanna nodded, feeling exhaustion in her body as they made their way to their chambers. "Any other news from the Peaceful Realms?"

"Your parents approve. They think you're doing a wonderful job. Francis of Nond is there. Oh, and something was said…about taking care of a new sister? Did they mean Kalasin? I don't think she needs taking care of."

Jon's eyes widened and he looked at her stomach. "I think…oh no. You don't suppose…"

"Suppose what?"

"That…you…"

"That I ?"

"…Couldbehavinganotherbaby."

"No." The blood left Alanna's face and her knees felt weak. Another child? She'd gone through so much with the last three times she'd become pregnant. A fourth time?

Would she be meeting a third ghost child?

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**Well, I need a tissue. What do you think? **

**The prayer "Turn to me and be gracious, for my heart is in distress..." comes from an arrangement of _In Remembrance_ that I had the fortune of singing with a most wonderful group of people. **


	24. I Will Not Lose Her

**Author's Note: Well, I think this story is getting closer to the end. I don't see a lot of new chapters on the horizon. Thank you for sticking with me thus far! Love you! **

**Tamora Pierce. All I need to say. **

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**Chapter 24: I Will Not Lose Her**

**April 446 H.E.**

The birth of the new sister was almost as disastrous as the labor for Marinine.

The expecting period had been tense for Alanna. The visit from her children had brought her out of despair, but it had not destroyed the pain completely. Now that she knew her son and daughter, missing them was impossible not to do. The sweetness of Marinine and the intelligence of Jasson had been undeniable, and Alanna knew that their dispositions would have lightened the palace. She struggled to find the same temperaments in headstrong Kalasin and fearless Thom and clever Roald and light-hearted Alan. She did not love her other children less for not being Marinine or Jasson, but she wished more so than ever that she could see her brood together.

This labor lasted from before noon to the wee hours of the next day, and Alanna struggled and pushed and sweated and prayed and cried through it all. But finally, _finally_, Eleni wrapped the new infant in a clean cloth and handed her to Jonathan.

Jonathan cradled the tiny girl in his arms as he looked at her delicate features. There was the red fuzz dusting her scalp, there was the bright violet blinking eyes.

"She looks like Marinine," Alanna breathed. "Except for her eyes."

"In more ways than one," Eleni whispered with tight lips. "Alanna, this one is much like Mari in the ways of her health. I fear…" The healer dare not say her thoughts, remembering how desolate Alanna was. _Please, Mother, do not take this one, or I fear her mother will not be long afterward._

Alanna knew what her stepmother meant. "She will not die," was the Lioness' only reply as she took the babe from her husband's arm. Alanna had not shared the midnight visit of her dead children with anyone but Jonathan. The moment was too private to be shared, and it would mean that the queen would have to explain the Great Mother Goddess' habit of dropping in on her chosen.

Through the night, Jonathan kept watch over his wife and child. Many were called to help her, but the general opinion was that the child would follow her sister to the grave. Offerings in shrines and temples were lit throughout the kingdom, both for the child and her mother. Prayers were muttered on bended knee, begging the Goddess to protect the sanity of the queen.

Had Alanna known of this outpouring of love for her by the Tortallan people, she would have been embarrassed. But her world no longer consisted between the Emerald Ocean and the edge of Scanra. Her world was the sporadically beating heart of her daughter.

Nearing noon of the next day, Jon suggested that they choose a name for the princess. He did not say whether it would be for the gravestone or the child, but it was something to distract his Lioness, whose violet eyes had yet to leave the child's face.

"A name?" Alanna blinked. "I've got no idea, Jon."

Jon puckered his mouth as he thought. "What about 'Alanna'?"

"No."

Jon continued to ponder, as he rubbed circles on his wife's tense shoulder. "We've used Thayet's mother's name, and your mother's name. How about my mother's name?"

"Lianne?" Alanna asked distractedly.

"Mhm," Jon nodded. He looked down at the tiny infant. "What do you think?"

"Does she look like a Lianne to you?"

She gazed back down at the object of her intense study. The tiny blue veins just visible on the forehead, the jerky motions, the soft spot under the sparse red tendrils of hair…Lianne?

"Let's ask the others," Jon suggested, sensing that Alanna could not focus. The children were brought to the room.

"We want to name your sister. Do you have any ideas?"

"I don't know any girl'th nameth," replied Thom, talking around his missing two front teeth.

Kalasin immediately rattled off all the names of her dolls.

"Um…um…um…" mumbled Roald.

Alan just smiled pleasantly and shrugged his shoulders. "Sistah?"

"What about Lianne?"

"A what?"

"Lianne? Does she look like a Lianne to you?"

"A-lianne?" asked Kalasin, mishearing Jon. "Alianne? I like _that_ name. We could call her Aly for short. Kally and Aly!" She laughed delightedly.

"Alianne?" Jon asked, his eyebrows raised.

Alanna smiled. "I like Alianne. If you don't mind, Jon. It _is_ your mother."

"No," Jon returned Alanna's smile, hoping his wasn't as thin and tired as hers was. "I like it."

"Alianne," Alanna whispered. "Be brave, Alianne."

Duke Baird entered the room. "Your Majesties. Your Highnesses." He bowed to the king and queen, and then their children. "I'm afraid that there is not much else I can do for your daughter."

"Her name is Alianne!" cried Kally, before Thayet, who had come to monitor the royal children, could shush her.

Baird acknowledged Kally's outburst with a nod, but he remained silent, waiting for the parents' response.

Alanna said fiercely, "She will not die. I will not lose her."

Jon and Thayet exchanged a look as they watched their Lioness fight for her cub.

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**Favorite part of the story so far? Favorite part of this chapter? Like it? Hate it?**


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